Tekken Tales
by Firebat
Summary: I have deleted all my Short Stories and Compiled them into one thread. I now have written my 17th story now. PLease R
1. Alex: Chisel and Hammer

"I do not know whether or not I belong here. I don't even belong in this time. My kind died out sixty five million years ago. I was not born of a mother and a father as is written. I was not made in love, but I was made as an experiment. I bend my knees before you, oh Allah. Tell me now why was I made?" Alex kneeled on the carpet of the empty Masjid. So long had he existed, but there was a pain that time could not heal. The reptile was hidden from all sight, but he saw nothing. He searched for questions, which he thought he knew the answers to. He only found more questions.

"Why was I made? Does my existence even matter, since I am not human? Do I possess a soul even though I possess no humanity? Does my birth make me less than human? Please, I beg you to give me an answer." Alex spoke softly. He looked towards the heavens for some sort of sign, but he saw nothing. Disheartened, Alex left the building under the cover of night.

Alex was alone as a person could be. How cruel it is to bring a child into the world with the blessing of human intelligence and the horror of a bestial body? There were times in his life that Alex wished Dr. Boskonovitch had not given him life. There were times that Alex wished to dwell in the unknown with the others of dead race. He was a dinosaur, the last dinosaur. He was a freak, an abomination of science and most of all an unloved being.

He would always remain distant from humanity and his appearance would guarantee his isolation. The desires in his bowels could never be fulfilled. He would never know the glory of what it meant to have a mate or what it meant to have children. How simple things would have been if Dr. Boskonovitch had made him a dim witted beast. He would not know this terrible ache or the longing for true companionship. His friend, Roger, could at least consort with humans and breed. It was more freedom then Roger would ever know.

"Creator of the stars and the moonlight, is this my fate? I must wander the earth with no love, except your own. Most gracious and most merciful, I ask for some shred of happiness. What crime have I committed that I must endure such torment? 'I ask Allah for forgiveness, whom none other has the right to be worshiped, the ever living, the self subsisting and the supporter of all and I turn to him in repentance.'" Alex broke down and repeated the hadith over and over again. He wanted an answer, any answer to the sorrow in his heart.

Alex waited and waited, but nothing came. Getting off the earth, Alex headed towards the narrow passage ways of the streets. No one could see him, for he was a shadow. He was a reptile born of muscles beyond the human scope of imagination. He was made of muscle and sinew that could carry him through the darkness of night, but not the darkness of his own heart. The longing for a place to belong was just too great.

Climbing up the sides of the buildings, Alex followed the shadows of the night. He could jump as though he could fly. Soaring above the sleeping children that were snug in their beds, Alex saw the city for what it truly was. In all this misery, he could not believe that there was such beauty in this world. Mankind had made him against his will, but mankind had done such wondrous things.

The slender buildings that rose above the ground to touch the skies like ancient spears. It was concrete forest, made of human hands. Lights and lamps lit the streets with a somber feeling making Alex's heart swell and his creativity burgeon. He walked to the side of one of the buildings and he leaped off. He came to one of the lamps, glowing so brightly. He touched the warm and radiant sphere to feel rays upon his hands, like a miniature sun. Amid the glow many tiny insects flew around the light with same attraction that Alex had for the aura.

Coming back to his home in the mountain, Alex had an idea he could not shake from his mind. With a hammer in one hand and chisel in the other, Alex attacked a pillar of stone. He carved and he chiseled like a mad man. His reptilian muscles ripped through the mighty stones. He chiseled and chiseled until he could chisel no more. He found a type of joy in this labor and it felt good to finally have something to do. He would sneak into Dr. Boskonovitch's lab and borrow different instruments as well as resources. Night and day, rain or snow, his hammer would echo through the mountains. Alex took sand from the beach and melted it into glass. Each glass, he blew into a flower with his own breath, which he used to decorate his masterpiece. He took shards of discarded iron and he forged into steel with his own hands. Burning his scales a few times at his make-shift forge, Alex continued. He struck and he hammered until it was red hot. Then he took the metal with his prongs and emblazoned it on his building. He dug quartz from the mountains and hammered them into crystals. He used left over acid from Dr. Boskonovitch's lab to write both Japanese characters and arabesque calligraphy upon sheet of copper that were forged once more to their bright splendor. Stone, metal, glass, and heart made his masterpiece. It gave him pride to see what he had done. He had made a building in the mountains, carved out of solid granite. It had taken him three years, but he did it. A job, which would have required thirty men, Alex had done on his own with little sleep or nourishment.

He took Dr. Boskonovitch to the sight and the doctor fell to his knees in surprise. He could not believe what Alex had wrought. Alex, one of his secondary creations, had gone beyond his expectations and limitations. Alex had evolved into something even doctor could not understand. "Alex, this is sheer wonder. I must show this to Yoshimitsu and the other manji. You have gone beyond my ideas."

Surely enough Yoshimitsu came to see what Alex had made and it shocked him more than he could ever believe. The manji clan leader, who did not often spend time looking at art, could not help, but admire Alex's building. Yoshimitsu invited others that knew Alex, so they could see the splendor. Marshall Law and his family were the first humans to actually enter the giant building, which was filled with nearly seventy pictures of mosaic made trees. Wang Jinrey bowed before Alex after enter the building.

Then came one unexpected visitor, a friend of Mashall Law, Paul Pheonix. That day was a harsh one for Alex. Paul Pheonix in a drunken haze became violent. The man took his rage out upon the building and smashed through one of the walls, breaking Alex's heart in two.

Alex seized him with his hands and lifted him into the air. "Why did you do this? I made this building with my heart. I made it with my love. I made with my sorrow. I made with my pain. I made it to be my legacy upon this earth so that I maybe remembered after death doth take my spirit. It gave me joy in simply building. It gave me nourishment within the emptiness of my existence. It made me happy…"

Alex stopped in mid rant and dropped the drunkard. Alex would cry his pain to the winds that night. In the morning he took his chisel and his hammer to begin his work once more. It was not completing the building that gave him joy. It was the labor of having purpose that gave him joy. Man cannot live on simply food and water, for all men have desire, want and a need to be significant. All people, man and woman, need something to look up to, to reach for and become more than what they are. One day Alex would die, but his buildings would remain. A mark of his happiness in this world and though he had no children, he made his legacy. His legacy was that of love and it was a type of love none would ever guess. It was for his love of mankind and faith.


	2. Feng's Redemption

"Master, it is I." Feng came to the side of the river. This river was where his master would come to meditate from time to time. Before his master's cremation, the river seemed to be happier. Now there were no birds chirping in the air. There were no frogs croaking on their lily pads. Now there was only a steady gloom followed by a soft mist that floated from a nearby waterfall.

"I know you cannot hear me, but I have returned." Feng sighed in putrid regret. So much time had passed, but there were still some things left undone. He had faced the world's greatest fighters. He had stared into the eyes of demons and he had made them blink. He had battled beasts and behemoths, but he always emerged the victor. He had faced supernatural powers beyond human imagination and always triumphed. Now he stood in the memorial of a dead man and he felt regret.

"I have challenged the greatest fighters in the world and I am victorious. I have made the King, the world's greatest wrestler scream. I have crushed the undefeated warrior, Paul Pheonix with my bare hands. I have taken the scrolls of the Mishimas and I have attained absolute perfection. Now I find myself empty." Feng snorted angrily as he treaded into the calm waters of the pond.

"I am the greatest fighter in the world and what do I have. I have no family, no friends. I only have enemies. I wanted to be the best and now that I am, what do I do. I have broken innocent lives. I must sleep with no rest, for fear of assassins would kill in my sleep. I have broken every rule in this temple for my own benefit. I have toiled, since the day I was born. I wanted to be the greatest, since I was first a child watching an exhibition of Shaolin Monks. As a boy, my mother would tell me the legendary tales of martial artists." Feng sighed.

"The tales didn't tell me about the price I would have to pay for greatness. Not that it really matters. If given the same choices, I would have done exactly the same actions over again." Feng laughed as he knelt in the water and wiped his forehead with cool liquid. "Death is now my only gift."

"I now know what you meat master. I now know what the rules mean. Those rules that dictated our order. The rules that made this temple and our history. I rejected them all in the pursuit of power. I am no different than the communists that tried to destroy our order so many years ago. They tried to destroy our art, our way of life, and our religion. When China was in the grips of bloody turmoil and all other arts were demolished by the new order. When all other arts were brushed beneath the earth to make room for modern wushu. When it was deemed by the government, that religion in itself was poison. I am no different from those that tried to destroy our order."

Feng paced angrily. "I thought I was doing the art a benefit. To push it to its absolute limits and then make it even better, but then I learned. None of that was ever important. All the techniques and hard work will fail at times. An ordinary man can strike down the greatest of warriors, if he is given enough courage. I disgraced our art in the need for pain and violence."

"So go ahead and say it, damn you. Say that I was wrong and you were right. Say that I am a failure and a disgrace. Say that I am a traitor to all that our order has taught to the world. Say that I am not even a man. Berate me and punish me for my arrogance, but do not hide your tongue. Do not mock me with your silence, for I know you hear me. I feel you spirit and I know you watch." Feng ranted towards the river.

"You punish yourself Feng. You harm yourself. Do not blame me for your own feelings of inadequacies." A whirlwind flew through the river and collected the fog. The mist was cleared and the suns beam burned through the clouds. The light shined in Feng's eyes and he could once more feel the presence of his master.

"So you can hear me. Well say it then, say that you are right." Feng shook his hand at the wind. Months of frustration and anger were pent up. Finally his anger towards his master was released. The anger was not released in fists or kicks, but tears. Feng was crying and the tears touched the waters of the river.

"Feng, you have come a long way, but still you do not understand." The master's voice echoed through the winds.

"What then do I not understand? That I am a fool. That I am a disgrace. That I am an arrogant child that reached to high towards the sun on the back of wings made of wax." Feng cried out to his master. The wind mocked him and brushed passed his body. It tried to soothe him, but he rejected all of it. Feng was angry and he wanted to remain angry. He wanted his master's spirit to take revenge. He wanted to be punished for his crimes.

"All men rise and fall by their own choices. You let your desires control you and now you feel regret. Do not mock my death. You made a goal and accomplished it. Now you claim you do not enjoy the flavor of your own meal." The wind laughed. "You have always known what the right thing was."

"Tell me then." Feng shouted.

"You know it in your heart." The wind responded and for a few moments Feng was perplexed, but then it donned on him. He walked deeper into the stream. He let the currents of water and time flow through him. Deeper and deeper he walked into the water. His body and soul were cleansed bit by bit. All of it now meant so little. He saw his deeds and knew all that he would have to suffer for. He took the pain and released it. A thousand suns exploded in his mind, yet he did not care. Feng released his emotions into nature and it welcomed him as a mother receives the child once more. He emerged from the depths and the stream had changed. The frogs croaked once more. The birds chirped once more. The wind was gone and the mist had returned. Feng walked out of the river and he would leave. His business was done and he would never return again.


	3. End of a Luchadore

King paced the ring as his new opponent stepped in. He had faced many opponents before, but none as strange as this. His opponent was just a little girl. Ling had come to challenge King. It was the strangest match the luchadore could have ever imagined. Ling was just a child in comparison to him. It made him feel slightly guilty that he had to fight a woman. He was King, the world's greatest wrestler. Now a child came to mock his skills and abilities.

The bell rang and king charged at the girl. His plan was to grab her, pin her and no one would get hurt. This idea was flawed, since Ling was as a praying mantis. Every time he tried to grab her, Ling just flipped away. To say it was irritating was more then an understatement. Ling's continuous high and low kicks were devastating to King's defense. Not willing to go all out against a female child, he rolled away from Ling.

The barrages came over and over again. King was forced into a corner, but was unable to mount any defense. He could easily have drop kicked her, but he was afraid of breaking her neck. The luchadore was helpless as one of Ling's kicks finally knocked him out. The whole crowd was stunned by the event. The great and mighty King had been knocked out by a child. It was then that Ling did the unthinkable. She put her hands on the corners of King's mask and with a quick jerk, she unmasked King publicly. She didn't mean for anything bad to happen, she just wanted to know what King's face looked like. Hundreds of reporters took pictures of the unmasked and unconscious King. His honor and dignity were lost in just a few moments.

A hand grasped Ling's shoulder and she turned around to see the disappointed eyes of her grandfather. She thought her grandfather would be proud, but his eyes were filled with sadness. "Ling, what have you done?"

"Grandpa, why are you so mad. I won." Ling tried talking to her grandfather as they took a plain back home to China. She had never seen her grandfather so distraught in her life. The whole world saw her defeat King. Instead of praise, she was receiving reproach. Her grandfather looked as though he were about to cry.

"Ling, how could you remove his mask?" Wang said as if he could not believe the words were coming out of his mouth.

"I just wanted to see what his face looked like." Ling pouted, "Besides, aren't you happy I won. I beat the world's greatest wrestler in a wrestling match."

"I am proud you won, but Ling, when a luchadore looses his mask, he can never wrestle again. His mask is his pride and dignity. It is the tradition of the luchadores to proudly walk into the ring with their masks. The mask is a symbol of all they stand for. When you removed King's mask, you took away everything he had. He can never wrestle again." Wang's voice was almost yelling.

"I didn't know the mask meant so much to him. Can't he just put the mask on?" Ling asked.

"No, King took a vow the day he lost his mask would be the day he would stop wrestling. You can't change the past Ling." Wang lowered his head in shame.

Ling came to the door of the orphanage. Against her grandfather's wishes, she had come back to Mexico. The place was a small place and it had an aura of sadness all about it. There seemed to be very little life left in the area. She saw a child sitting in a rocking chair. The child was holding a news paper with the words "King Whooped by Little Girl," written in bold on the top page. Ling couldn't look the girl in the face.

She knocked gently on the door and waited, a deep sense of regret plagued her heart. A seven year old boy with freckles opened the door. His face was caked with dirt. With one stare Ling, he said, "What do you want?"

"I came here to see King." She asked politely.

"He's not here!" He yelled and began to slam the door, but luckily it was first caught by a large hand. It was the hand of King.

"That's enough Fernando, this young lady and I have much to discuss. Please go see the others." King said as he stepped into view. He bore a smile, but there was a hurt inside him that Ling could see. His eyelids drooped and his cheeks slacked, but the strength was not gone.

"Sorry about Fernando, he is a bit emotional for his age." King smiled.

"King I…I…" Ling wanted to say something to make things better, but the words were simply not there.

"Please, my name Tiago Gomez. I am no longer King. The King is dead." Tiago answered.

"I am so sorry. I didn't know I would cause so much trouble. I just wanted to see your face. I didn't know what the mask meant." Ling began to cry with such pain and anguish that Tiago could not help, but feel for her.

"Ling don't cry. You won the right to take my mask. It was my own fault for not taking you seriously. I did not see you as a fighter. I saw you as just another girl. I considered you weak simply because of your gender. It was my own fault for losing and I have no one else, but myself." Tiago coaxed Ling and her tears began to stop dripping.

"Mr. Gomez, maybe we can have another match. If you can beat me, maybe you can…" Ling tried to pull some scheme, but King stopped her mid sentence.

"Ling, stop. I told you, what is done, is done. It is good that you came to take responsibility, but there are things in this world that you can't take back. Yes, I must suffer. The orphanage will suffer, but there is some shred of light." King smiled warmly as he embraced the weeping girl.

"I don't understand." Ling answered.

"Many times in life we make mistakes. Some we can't take back. Tell me, what have you learned." Mr. Gomez asked.

"What do you mean?" Ling questioned.

"You know the answer in your heart, otherwise you would not be here." Mr. Gomez answered.

"I think that…" Ling bit her lip. "I think that I shouldn't always let my curiosity take control of me."

"Then it is not a total loss, you learned. Now you must move on. Go home to your grandfather. I am sure he misses you." Mr Gomez smiled.

"What will happen to you?" Ling murmured softly as she wiped off her tears.

"I can't wrestle anymore, but I will find a way to provide for myself." Tiago shrugged.

"This isn't fair. Things are not supposed to be this way." Ling denied herself.

"Life is not always happy Ling, but that makes it worth living. We take in everything and just hope we draw the better straw." King answered sadly.

"Are you mad at me?" Ling asked.

"No, I am not mad at anyone. Getting angry does not solve problems." Tiago answered with a wisdom Ling could not truly understand, but was beginning to understand. "Stop fretting yourself. Just go to you grandfather and remember what I said."

Ling walked away with her shoulders drooped, but before she left she turned one last time. On last tear stroked Ling's cheeks. "You may not have a mask, but your still a luchadore in my eyes, King. You will always be King to me."


	4. Judgement

"Raaaaaagggarr!" The beast roared behind Bryan Fury. The cyborg had slain Yoshimitsu and Dr. Boskonovitch, but now something else was hunting him. A creature that should never have existed was chasing him. It hid in the darkness and followed Bryan pace for pace. The cyborg had once ripped a tank apart with his bare hands, but he had never expected something like this to be stalking him. In the light of the moon Bryan ran as fast as he could. His speed was greater than any normal man's, but the beast that hunted him was no man.

"Show yourself." Bryan finally stopped and turned around. He yelled at his attacker, "Show yourself coward and face me face to face. I am Fury, I fear nothing and no one. Come and show yourself. No one can stop me."

A low growl came through the alley way. The beast took a step into the light and it was not a human leg. The leg was covered in scales and had claws upon the end. A prehistoric scull with bright yellow eyes appeared within the dark. It was a monster that had not walked the earth for sixty-five million years. It was a horror armed with the most natural of weapons and possessing a mind that was beyond humanity. It was Alex.

"You call yourself, fury. You do not know the meaning of the word." Alex roared as he leaped at Bryan. Filled with hate and reptilian hunger, Alex hurled himself at the cyborg at full momentum. It was a combination of modern intelligence and prehistoric brute strength charging in a lust for vengeance. Bryan, even with his machine weaponry, felt afraid.

At the last moment, before the reptile made contact, Bryan jumped nearly twenty feet into the air. His legs powered by a machine made by Doctor Boskonovitch. He leaped over the raptor with amazing skill and grace. All of Bryan's skills were enhanced by the machines built into him by the doctor. Bryan was the pinnacle of mechanical technology and Alex was the pinnacle of biotechnology. Both were made by the same man, but one had turned upon the creator. "You forget about my limitless power source, raptor."

"The same power source given to you by Dr. Boskonovitch. He bought you from death. He saved your life. He made you strong and you killed him like a dog!" Alex roared as he leaped towards Bryan again. The two fell into a grapple, testing the limits of their strength. Bryan's hands clutched Alex's claws and Alex's claws clutched Bryan's hands. The two were pushing each other as hard as they could

"How are you doing this?" Bryan's eyes widened as Alex began to push Bryan backwards. Machine was being thrust aside by flesh. It was impossible. It was illogical. Boskonovitch had given Bryan limitless strength. Bryan could tear metal apart with his fingers and up until now his strength was unmatched.

"Boskonovitch was my father. He made me in his lab. He gave me life and you killed him. You killed him, you ungrateful scum. Your machines mean nothing, your power mean nothing." Alex's rage took complete control and he began to push Bryan further and further, until Bryan was against the wall. Bryan's arms began to squeak and strain, but Alex was just too strong. Alex took his monstrous jaws and clamped down on Bryan's head. He began jerking in attempt to rip off Bryans head. Blood and metal fell to the ground as Bryan was finally able to shove Alex off of him.

Bryan's face was brutally scarred with metal and flesh dangling in a brutal scene of carnage. Bryan came at Alex with a barrage of punches and kicks. He brutally drove his knee into Alex's long neck. He punched and chopped away at the reptiles back, until the tail came to slap Bryan away. Like whip, the tail struck at Bryan's broken face. The raptor and cyborg were forced to step apart.

"Come to me cyborg. I am not a helpless old man with a terminal disease. I am not a mere human policeman with gun. Come face me cyborg or do you only face opponents that are no match for you?" Alex roared as he slashed at Bryan's chest with the claw on his foot. Electric fuses were released and internal organs were cut at the same time. Since the day he had become a cyborg, Bryan had never such a beating.

He took another swing at Alex, but the raptor caught the arm with its jaws. Wrenching the appendage around, Alex tossed Bryan like a rag doll. He swung Bryan through the air and smashed the cyborg in a brick wall. With one final jerk Alex ripped off the arm. Sparks and wires were thrown asunder as Bryan fell to the ground screaming like a child.

Alex swung his tail, but with the remaining arm, Bryan was able to grab the tail. He was in charge of the battle now. Alex bellowed in raw hatred and anger unrivaled. Bryan swung Alex around in a circle above his head. Swing after swing through the air made Alex's head spin. Finally Bryan let go and sent Alex flying into a lamppost. There was a screech as the metal bent over.

"RAAAHHHHH." Alex rampaged down the street like a mad bull. He charged in Bryan and the two of them crashed into a blue convertible. A young couple opened a door to see a maddened dinosaur and cyborg grappling on their car. The two were too shocked to do anything. Alex turned his head to them and roared, "Graaaahhh."

The couple screamed and shut the door behind them. Bryan's body was too damaged to be of any use. Alex held him there with all the strength that his reptilian muscles could muster. Bryan was pinned and the oil in the car was leaking. Bryan's wires were buzzing around and it would only be a matter of time before one of the wires would touch the oil. "Enough, you win."

"Do you think this is a fight? You executed my father. Now I am your judge, jury and executioner. You cannot run from your crimes Bryan for I have come to pass judgment upon you." Alex roared.

"Alex, you'll kill us both you idiot." Bryan fidgeted.

"Then we shall pass into the inferno together and I shall join my father. It is fitting that we both perish. You had your life returned by Dr. Boskonovitch and I was given life by him. Now we must both be consumed." Alex answered. A wire finally touched the oil and there was a great boom. With one final roar, Alex yelled to the sky, "Father…"


	5. Man Bites Doughnut

Dear Son,

The scents and tastes are more than a man can take to his heart. Everything about such a life has given me purpose. Indeed, I never wanted to be the world's greatest fighter. I wanted to be the world's greatest chef. My spatula would be my saber and my rolling pin would be my shield. I never desired to beat people for money. I wanted to bring people happiness through my culinary talents. I wanted to be like that man on television that always said, "BAM" and then cook something, too bad I forgot that man's name, for it has been many years.

In my early childhood days, my family was very poor. We never had much, but we did have a black and white television, a pathetic excuse for a gas oven, a straw mattress, and some clothing. My family and I would only watch television on Saturdays, since we did not have that much money to pay the electric bill. My father was a chef himself. With a little rice, some cumin seasoning and some flecks of meat, he would make a delicious meal.

I never had the humility to admit it, but in my eyes there was no greater man than my father. Looking back, I wish I had told him how much I respected him. He worked at a rundown shack and he did his best to bring some dignity to his workplace, but alas, he failed. He wanted a better life for his son than that of a cook. He wanted his son to be a martial artist.

I never wanted to disappoint my father, so I agreed to be a fighter, but inside it was never really my passion. I thought about Tae Kwon Do, but that made no sense with so much leg kicks. I pondered mantis style kung fu, but that put half the body at personal risk. I thought about muay thai, but that was too simplistic. I even pondered some grappling art, but the idea of rolling on the ground with other males did not appeal to me. So I just picked Jeet Kune Do, the art of no style and all styles.

My training was rigorous as well as strenuous and at times I wished to quit. Then I met a friend, a judo fighter and kickboxer. He was a rude and arrogant man with a red gi. I honestly could never have met such a hot-blooded individual. Though he had many a fault, he would grow to be my closest friend as well as sparring partner. It turned out that I was quite talented in the art of combat and on occasion would get carried away with my sparring, but still that did not change my dream. My ultimate dream of owning my own restaurant was close to my grasp.

I so dearly wanted to become a chef, but then I got married and life changed. I knew that a restaurant would be too risky, especially with a child out on the way. Soon I was able to enter a high price tournament. It was there that I earned enough money to create my own dojo. I could support my family and that made me happier than anything in the world. My dreams did not matter, for I had the greatest gift of all, you, my son. I wanted to pay for your way through life and send you to the world's best universities. I wanted buy my wife expensive clothing and gifts. I was a fool.

A rival dojo leader burned down my dojo. In my anger I took vengeance upon him and defeated him in another tournament. I tried hard to be the victor this time. I honestly tried as hard as I could. I did every technique found in my arsenal. In the end it was not enough to win the finals. I did, however, make enough money to finally start my own restaurant. It was a fool's hope, but it was my hope. I wanted to finally provide for my family the way that I wanted.

You have no idea the joy a chef feels when he creates masterpiece. You have no idea the amount of love it takes to make something from your heart. We chefs are artists, just like any other artist. Our creations only last one meal, but in those precious moments we are given a strange feeling. I cannot really explain it, but it is sort of like creating life. The sauces and ingredients become part of my spirit. Different ingredients come from all over the world come together to make something wonderful.

When I see my customers eat my food, and then see a smile, it feels with a wonderment one can only imagine. The fact that it was my cooking that made that person smile also makes me smile. That is the beauty of being a chef. You do something you love and you can spread your love to others. It takes patience and skill to satisfy those around you. With all this energy, it is a great insult when a customer looks down upon your cooking. When my restaurant business finally began to boom, I began to expand. One restaurant after another was built and I was intoxicated with money. I forgot what it meant to be a chef and I was absorbed in the ideal of making more cash. I let others do the work for me and my attention was spread throughout Japan. I forgot about my workers, my morality and my customers. My food became tripe that one can easily buy at a fast food diner. Most unfortunate of all, I did not care. I had forgotten who I was and when I finally returned to cooking myself most of my skills were lost. When a customer disdains what you have wrought with you own two hands, it tears you heart apart.

I failed once more. My restaurant went out of business and I was left with nothing. I could not provide for my family. I had nothing once more and it was my own fault. When luck had been put into my hands, I was ungrateful. My own ambition destroyed. Turning away from my own family, I absorbed myself in alcohol. I became the very pit of all creation. No longer was I a man, but a creature without hope, trying my own sorrows in bottles of liquor.

Then you my son, my fool of a son, you saved me. When you were sent to the hospital, it finally awoke me from my lethargy. I had to enter one final tournament and take one last chance. I put away the bottle and trained harder than any man before me. My thoughts were always about you, filled with regret. I wondered if I had not been so drunk, then maybe I could have prevented your pain. I may not always show this, but I love you my son. Though we as men do not show our emotions often, I love more than all the other things in my life. I was given one last shot to show the world that I had not failed as a father. I was able to enter the tournament and you showed have seen me from the audience, not some hospital bed. I put up a great fight and I was finally able to put myself out of debt. In the end, it was not good enough.

I now leave you my son, take care of your mother. You do not need me, for you are better off without me. My entire life has been one failure after another and now I see myself for what I truly I am. I failed as a father, I failed as a chef and I failed as a good provider. Most importantly, I failed as a man. You are now the head of our family and I have no doubt that you will be a far greater man than I ever was.

Sincerely,

Your father.


	6. Yokozhuna Supreme

"Hey fatty, get moving. We are going to be late." Anna yelled at Ganryu. The humble sumi rushed out in his burgeoning tuxedo. He was never one to talk back and now it seemed he was being led like a dog upon a leash. His "girlfriend" was waiting for him to hurry up so they could both arrive at the minister's dinner party. It had been like this for months and day by day, it wore away Ganryu's spirit. He had never been one that was popular with the women and when finally someone took interest in him, it had been like a miracle from heaven. Of course some miracles later prove themselves as curses.

Anna insulted him and humiliated him in a way no human should ever be treated. In public, they made a show of a happy couple, but when the cameras were off a new face appeared. She did not love him, but she intoxicated him and filled his head with thoughts that few men could resist. She played him like an overgrown puppet on strings of steel. She was smarter than him and thus she could keep a vice grip over his mind with her beauty.

Ganryu did not complain, after all, what decent woman would want him? He was not a handsome man, nor was he a very young man. His days as Yokozhuna were over and his former fans had forgotten about him. He was fifty six years old and he had almost nothing. His money had been spent over the years on frivolous things and dignity decayed as he worked for Heihachi Mishima. In the end, Ganryu had nothing to show for his achievements. He had been Yokozhuna, sumo grand champion, nine times in a row and now he was just another pawn.

At the party, he was greeted by many well wishers, but more eyes were on Anna. She used him as a way to make herself more popular. The young girl loved the publicity that she could leech off of Ganryu. Through him, she could gain the attention of the Japanese public. If only the public knew that she was only using Ganryu. She talked as though she was a sweet and gentle girl, but Ganryu saw passed all that and it made him ill. It made him ill to see how far he had fallen. In some ways he worse than Taro Akebono, the Hawaiian born sumo grand champion, who abandoned his fans sumo simply to earn few million yen back in 1994.

He could no longer call himself a sumi. He was lower than scum itself and it gave Anna pleasure in reminding him how inferior he was. After the party, Anna went to the home of one of her agents. It gave Ganryu sometime to walk alone by himself in a park. He remembered the days when he started out as a mere rikishi and then worked his way up to an Ozuma. He could still imagine training with his brothers within the Dohyo. Those were the golden years of Ganryu's life.

"What has happened to you old friend?" A voice came from behind him. Ganryu turned to face the eyes of his former rival. It was none other than the manji leader himself, Yoshimitsu. The two warmly embraced in a way brothers do. Ganryu squeezed his friend almost to the point where Yoshimitsu was almost crushed. Yoshimitsu was probably one of the greatest sumo fans ever born.

"Yoshimitsu, my old friend, what do you mean?" Ganryu asked as he wiped the tears from his face.

"I saw how you are treated old friend. I am horrified at what you have become. How can you allow that wench to scorn you like this? You are the Yokozhuna. You are a grand champion. Where is your fire and courage my friend?" Yoshimitsu asked in disappointment.

"I am no longer a sumi. My days of Yokozhuna are long over. I am just a man now and a frail man at that. I cannot live alone for the rest of my days. I need a companion and it is obvious that I may not have the perfect companion. Anna may not show affection, but she is as close as I shall ever be to a woman. I cannot ask for more. You and I both know that I have never been one with success with women." Ganryu sighed.

"By all that is righteous, have you forgotten what you are? Ozuma is not just a sport, it is a way of life. You should know that more than any other man on earth. You are Yokozhuna, sumo grand champion, and you shall be until you are buried in your grave. Have you forgotten all the teachings that are made in Ozuma? Have you forgotten that you are sumi? Have you forgotten the traditions that made you one of mightiest men ever to walk upon the face of the earth?" Yoshimitsu's eyes glared into Ganryu's soul.

"I am sorry my friend, but those days are long over. I can no longer sumo. I am not a sumi anymore." Ganryu tried to defend himself through denial.

"There are still fans within Japan that speak then name of the great Ganryu. What would they say if they saw you now? They believed in you and they still believe in you. I believe in you. Do it for Ozuma, if you can still remember what that word even means." Yoshimitsu answered and he left Ganryu within the dark.

"Where have you been, Anna yelled at Ganryu angrily." She was not in a pleasant mood, but this time Ganryu didn't care. He had taken all the pain and suffering he could take. He no longer saw the luscious red lips or the crystalline body of pure elegance. He saw woman that cared nothing for him or anyone else. He saw a woman that had used him and belittled him.

"I have been talking to an old friend." Ganry answered with some humility.

"Well this is the last time that this is going to happen." Anna snorted meanly. "I bet it was one of those ridiculous sumi fans."

"You are right, this is the last time that this is going to happen." Ganryu answered. "You have lived with me so many months and you still do not know that sumo is a sport and sumi is the name of sumo practitioner."

"So what does that matter to me?" She asked.

"It does not matter to you, but it matters to me. I am a sumi and you just insulted all those that love watching sumo. This is the final insult, you are no longer welcome in my home. I ask you to humbly leave." Ganryu bowed.

"This is a joke right. You are dumping me?" Anna's jaw hung open.

"No more jokes. Sumo wrestling was once my life, but that does not change who I am." Ganryu charged at her and picked Anna up in the air. She flailed and kicked him in the head, but he did not care. The chains were broken and the bull was let loose. Ganryu was a free man and tears rolled down his eyes. He laughed as he had not done in years as he ran to the door. With one final bellow, Ganryu threw Anna out of his home and out of his life.


	7. Rise from the Ashes

The air echoes with thunder as the red warrior marches off to the distance. A brave a man and a brave boy he shall forever be. He was the fire that never stopped burning. He was the rage that never stopped roaring. In light of poverty's darkness, one phoenix rose above the others. I cannot say that he was a dragon, for his mind was never at peace, so he was phoenix. In a few shining moments his fire burned as he battled the thunderous demon. A rivalry that turned his burned his heart into stone.

His name rises in the Korean winds as his spirit becomes one with the land that birthed him. An orphan that returns to the arms of his mother's love and his father's care. An orphan that I made into a man. He was a flower made from gloomiest of sunlight, but he was strong. He may have been the strongest human being ever to rise from the ashes. Always striving to be the greatest of all fighters. I beat him and I punished him, but at the end of the day he would always rise once more from the ash.

I shall never forget those eyes that seared through the hearts of so many. A thuggish exterior that hid a sharp mind. A man that had no choice, but to do what was necessary to survive. How I regret that I was not a better teacher. He surpassed me in more ways than I could ever imagine. He defeated me and showed me who the true master finally was. When the blood was wiped from my brow, he bowed before me in respect.

How dare you all judge this man for his sins as a child? Can you not see the type of man he became? He shed the feather of the Blood Talon, and chose to fly his own path in this world. He chose to fly his own path into the afterlife. Never once did he flinch as the shadow consumed his body. He looked upon me with those ever defiant eyes and spat into the eyes of death even as he was wrought with pain. Who here among us can say that we too can be as bold as he?

Rage and passion filled the heart of this man as he struggled to achieve perfection. Never once did he settle for a draw, for victory was all that stood before his eyes. The bell tolls for him now, but I remembered back when all of Korea tolled for him. I remember when the all of Korea chanted his name. He gave me hope as he gave our people hope. A rebel at heart, but one that we all grew to love. He was never a cherub, but rather a demon with a golden heart.

The cocky grin and that arrogant smirk made me waver at times. I tried teaching him humility, but he never learned. It was sad, but in the end he would brush it all off with a joke. A proud and brash bird, he never really cared for politeness. He was always direct and straight to the point. He could look at a man and judge the honesty of the man's character. His ways were unknown to many, but in his own way, he was a good man. I am proud that in some ways, I made him the man that he later became

His crimes and sins of the past haunted him. He did feel some regret for those that he had harmed. He may not have shown it with that stony exterior, but deep below the muscle and sinew, lay a heart that few one earth could ever see. I was one of the lucky few to ever see his gentler side. I saw beyond the flames and fire, which to my surprise held something more human than most would assume to his memory.

I saw a man hidden in the forest fire. A man that was too afraid to step out from the fire, for fear that others would see him as weak. I saw a king imprisoned upon his own throne and that is the greatest tragedy of all. We all saw him as a brute, but who among us would try to be his friend? Who among us would give this son of the streets a helping a hand other than me?

How dare some of us judge this man? Most of shall never even attain half the greatness that he attained. Most of us do not feel the horrors of his life upon the street. With so little and so meager an existence, he rose above it all. He unchained himself from his destiny of begging, to a destiny of battle. Very few humans have the ability to reach above the limits, which life has set for us. He was one of those special human beings. He was made of the hardest iron, because he had been forged in a harsh life.

I do not know where he is now, but I hope it is somewhere peaceful. He never had a moments rest in this world and hopefully he shall find his peace in death. Maybe the burning forest can finally whither and the man inside can finally come out into the light. May the ashes from his torment give birth to seeds of kindness and joy. May his spirit finally fly free from all the rage that has put him inside a cage, which he built for himself, bar by bar.

He was not a bad person, but no one could understand him. We could not understand him and he could not understand us. He could not live a mundane life, pushing a pencil across a desk. He could not waste his life hiding behind a computer screen. He wanted to live and be free in body as well as spirit. Through tae kwon do, he achieved a sort of power that turns a man into a weapon. He was able to become more than just a fighter, for he had become a force of nature

I shall not forget his name. I shall not forget his deeds. His works of passion are painted in blood and sweat. His tears have burned through his very soul as he vomited after a hard days training at the dojo. At his most vulnerable moments, the phoenix still demanded respect from all those that watched him. No one living and no one dead can ever say that he was weak. Any other man born with his hardships would have died as an infant, but still he prevailed.

His final battle was a glorious one. The demon lords advanced upon him, but he did not falter. He laughed as beams of lightning streaked across the sky and tore his body asunder. His voice echoed through the winds as he mocked his opponents. His laugh made the demon lords quiver in their power and I know that he still laughs beyond the grave.

Hwoarang, I Baek remember you. I remember you as any true father can remember his son. Go in peace Hwoarang, for I honor your memory. I honor your story and I honor your heart. I look upon your memory, but I do not cry. Your existence brings a smile to my face, for I know you are a phoenix. Mighty Hwoarang, you shall rise from the ashes once more. When I am torn asunder as well, may rise to be with you as well. Hail to Hwoarang, a man of desire. Hail to Hwoarang, a man of fire.


	8. Raven's Shadow

I am the cloak and the dagger. I am silent as night itself. A predatory creature only few men can see with their narrow scopes. I am beyond human. I am the darkness embodied by human flesh. I am the ethereal ghost that no one ever sees. You cannot see me, but that does not mean I am not there. You cannot know my past, nor shall you ever know my present. In essence I do not really exist, for only few have ever seen me. To look upon me and to my name, may even mean your death.

It is a harsh life that man sometimes leads. It is a harsh world where all must find their place of sanctuary beyond the abyss. I was forged in a place without fire and without light. I am darkness and pretty soon I alone shall hold that name. I am not evil nor am I good. I simply am, and I do what I am told by my superiors. I do not really care whether you judge me or not, but that is what I am.

I am the rustle of the wind as it makes its coarse through the air currents of the world. I am the shyness of the leaf as it falls from the tree. I am the panther, hiding in the depths of the forest, simply waiting for its prey. With a twitch of my blade, the deed is done. My enemy is slain and I am once more invisible. You cannot know who I am and in the end I too have forgotten the name, which my parents blessed me with on the day I was born.

Perhaps I should have been named Nameless One. The name has a nice ring to it. I drift from here to there, watching, but never touching. I follow the shadows bouncing beyond the horizon of the sun. I go forth wherever it is pleased by my masters. I am a killing machine and I do what I must. If I were ever given rest, I wonder if I could ever stop killing. It is such a poor way to make friends.

Killing is a natural act for man. We have been doing it for thousands of years. We watch the prey silently. We make sure that it cannot see us. We wait until we are close enough. The prey's senses are not strong enough to detect us. When it is finally too late, we spring from our hiding places. We watch the horror in the eyes of the prey as it realizes its certain doom. Before it can even scream, our fangs sink into its throat.

Times have changed and so has society, but the rules of the hunt remain exactly the same. I sometimes wonder whether I am losing my humanity, or am I getting more in touch with what it truly means to be human. Am I crazy or has everyone else lost his mind. None of you shall ever know and I frankly do not care. My own mission is all that matters to me.

I was never one to let detail pass me by. Every bit of knowledge, since my first days of training has given me weapons. Every time I learn something new, it helps me become better at my job. It is what I am. My job is to learn and use my information to punish my enemies in ways they can never imagine. How sad that most of you shall never understand the rawness of what I can do?

With a slight movement of my hands, I can dig my nails into the arteries of your neck. With a twitch of my wrist, I can lacerate the neck. With a push of my palm, I can snap your skull backwards. With merely two fingers, I can find a pressure point upon your body and make you fall into sleep, where none shall awaken. I have practiced these techniques, since I was a mere child. These movements have been programmed into me. Every time I practice these moves, I become faster and more accurate. I have trained and trained until all of it has become nothing more than second nature to me.

I can survive in the harshest of conditions. I have braved things for the work of my masters than none before me shall ever believe. I have become more than human in someway, but still remain stranded in the darkness. I dare not show my face in the light, for then I loose my power. My power is the mystery and the unknown. My power is that of surprise. Instead of bludgeoning my opponents, I wait for a moment to strike, and when that moment comes, I end the match just as swiftly as it began.

I am just a figment of your imagination. I am a nightmare that cannot be seen. Whether or not you actually recognize me is your own choice, but I advise against it. I have evolved in ways most men would think disgusting. I have evolved beyond most predatory animals and have become an uncaring machine. Blood spills over my hands, just as water spills over a toddlers. I am the antithesis of all the morals mankind has been nurtured upon, for my very existence is a bane to morality.

I do not care for taking over the world, nor do I care about saving the world. I am a wolf that hears the command and then rips out the organs of the enemies. That is what I am. That is all that I can ever be. I was broken in my training of ninjitsu and I have become more than what my masters ever expected. I begin to wonder if my masters even fear what I have become. Perhaps they believe that I have been trained too well.

I hear and I follow into the night of the unknown. I rise and fall at the beep of my call. As soon as the feeling comes, the feeling is gone. I fly from shadow to star upon my own two legs. The night is my friend and I have come to accept the night as my mother. It protects me and aids me in all my endeavors. It is almost like being an extension of the night's power. I let the coolness of its soft air flow through my nostrils as I hunt for my prey once more.

I have never fallen or failed, for to do so would mean my own death. I do not have the luxury of failure, for to do so would mean my automatic execution. I know that my superiors have other agents, vastly superior to me. I know that with a press of a button, I would be dead and all trace of my existence would be wiped out. That is one of the enjoyable parts of my life, I must always make sure that I am never caught. I must always make sure that I remain just a shadow.

A shadow cannot be stopped nor can it be extinguished. I shall flow through the darkness and another shall take my place. I haunt my enemies, for they know that there can be no escape from my eyes. I am the ever watchful moon and my beams pierce all. You cannot hide from me and when you think you are finally safe, I shall be hovering behind you with my breath upon your neck. With you final moments you shall look into my eyes and you shall see me. When it is all over, the Raven flies away from his carrion without a trace. For I am Raven.


	9. Chapter 9

Craig Marduk pushed the brick walls as hard as he could. Then he realized that he was on the middle of the street with everyone watching him. The wall he was pushing was the side of a restaurant. Their eyes glared into the big man and he felt a the lick of shame. With a single snort and stare from Craig's face, the residents of the local town went about their business. He was a large man and that let him have an advantage over those around him. Through sheer size, he created an atmosphere of fear.

The bars were always around him and he knew in his heart he was not an innocent man. He belonged in prison. What right did he have to walk the streets when there was so much blood on his hands? He had never wanted to be a murder. All he ever wanted was to be the greatest fighter the world had ever known. He wanted to go down in history with the mixed martial arts legends.

He had received a black belt in Brazillian Jiu Jitsu after seven years. He was a high school wrestling champion from Sidney Australia. He had trained in Muay Thai for nearly two years. He even received a decent six months of boxing training. His stand up and ground techniques were absolutely superb to the point where he was almost flawless. He was a fighting machine, so why was he not champion?

He killed a man. He broke the skull of another human being and watched the life drain from the other man's skull. He smashed his opponent beyond the point of recognition. He watched as the blood poured out from the body. That blood would stain his very dreams. All Craig had to do was close his eyes and there he would find the blood. The blood, which stopped from ever being a champion. He would never be a hero like the UFC or Pride legends. In his own eyes, he would remain a killer.

His own mother was a very good woman and his father was a very righteous individual, so how had he become such a creature. He had wanted to be a fighter as his father had been in the old boxing arenas in Melbourne. He had wanted to change history and to be known that he was some body. He had gotten what he wanted, he was known to the whole world. He was the man that killed Armor King.

Craig couldn't take the glares anymore, so he moved to a place where no one would ever know him. Unable to face his family in Australia, Craig had found a place for himself nestled in a small town of Nebraska. There he could keep somewhat a degree of normalcy. Every day he would go to work at the DMV. His monotonous life of rejecting and not rejecting liscenses began to bore him out of his mind. He hated the hum of the annoying fluorescent lights. He hated the scratching sound of chalk from the driver's education program. He hated the sound of his own hand stamping one paper after another. He hated having to wear a tie and suit to work every day. Just walking to the DMV made his belly groan.

Then one day he saw an add on the wall. At first he dismissed the idea, but then realized how low he was on money. He looked at the paper and saw that a nearby elementary school needed a pee wee coach. The idea of working with children made him a little ill, but he needed the money, besides he had done rugby back in Australia.

When Craig arrived at the school, he discovered a group of happy little boys squealing to play football. It made him want to puke. As soon as the parents left, Craig took off his mask. He was absolutely merciless upon the children. He made them stand out in the sun with bricks in their hands. Then he made them do crunches until he could smell the sweat on their little backs. Then he chased them across the field while he was driving in his car. "Move it you little turds before I run over your asses."

Torturing these little children made Craig feel important, similar to his days in Vale Tudo. He was able to torture other human beings and enjoy it as well. Not to mention he was doing a community service as well. All of the children on his team became highly meek and bendable. Craig had kicked the excitement and energy out of their little bodies, literally. The children would obey their parents, for fear of punishment. Parents no longer had to worry about children making a mess, since they would come back from practice to tired to make messes.

One of the children, Andy Belucia, missed a pass from one of his teammates. Craig was able to find a way to make sure Andy would never miss again. Craig kidnapped Andy's little kitten, Mr. Fluffy. He dangled the kitty in front of Andy and whispered into Andy's ear, "Andy, if you ever miss that ball again, I am going to cut off a one of Mr. Fluffy's body parts and mail it back to you."

Another child known as Bill Redamiayer skipped practice, because he was sick. Craig was nice enough to visit Redamiayer at his home that day. He had a talked with Bill's mother and she let Craig into the room with Bill. Craig closed the door and he was alone with the child. He yanked Bill out of bed, nearly choking the child. "If you even think about quitting the team, remember I know where you live boy."

Craig had them in the palm of his hands. He could hear them crying and it annoyed him. One day he was sick of tears in practice, so he came up with an idea. Every time one of the children cried, he would push them down the bleachers. Whenever a child asked a question, he would smack them across the head. It was a strict house of discipline. Craig even rented a book from the library to help him coach. The book was called Corporal Punishment For Military Criminals.

Craig was soon able to get them into a higher level. The children had turned into hardened monsters. Craig had even gone far enough to teach them Vale Tudo moves. They were able to do double leg and single leg take downs. He even encouraged them to slam their opponents harder after lifting them in the air. Thomas Bulldis, Craig's favorite of the bunch once tackled a person right into a metallic bench. Craig was filled with so much pride that he even shed a tear.

Before the final game he grabbed each and everyone of the children by their helmets and shook them in the air. "If you lose this game then you might as well pray for death." The team burned the field and soon Craig had won his championship easily. He had found his peace in Pee Wee football. He would enjoy torturing the next batch of students the next year.


	10. Thunder and Demons

The earth was swelling with primordial rage as the waters below churned up with swell. The meeting of fire and lightning would take place this day. This was the day that the demons would rise from the ground to take their place under the sun. Ugly and full of malice, these abominations would ruin the earth. Planting seeds of greed and hate in the hearts of men, forcing brother to hate brother, the demons had their fun with toying of mortals.

One mortal would not stand for this corruption and pain. A warrior would rise from the spewing mesh and he was no ordinary man. Lightning surged through the air as he woke. When he breathed, the very air around him crackled with power. He was the avenger of mankind and no more could he take the mischief of these vile demons. This man's name was Thunderer. No one knows how Thunderer was born, but there have been claims. One person would say that he was struck by lightning while playing in the trees. Another would say that he fell from the sky. Some would say that he found inside the womb of an electric eel. There have even been some who believed that he was the spirit of lightning put into the form of man.

Whatever the origin of his birth or power, it did not matter. Thunderer, with his mighty fists of rage came upon the demons. His battle axe was raised high above them as he slew them. None of these demons could match the Thunderer. With his helmet baring mighty horns and his long braided beard trailing from his chin, the Thunderer smashed his opponents upon stones of obsidian magma.

Indeed the demons had no defense against Thunder's might, but they did have other weapons. A demoness, by the name of Marisha would come upon the Thunderer. Though Marisha was not a powerful demon, the Thunderer was still a mortal man. All mortal men have a weakness and Marisha knew this weakness very well. Lightning would stop and the clouds would be silenced. The Thunderer was stopped in his tracks upon the sight of Marisha.

She had bought the mighty Thunderer to his knees with her seduction, stripping him of his pride. The Thunderer was a prisoner of his own lusts and it made him ill inside. He could not stop the demoness, for he was just meat to him. The Thunderer's battle axe clattered upon the floor. His helmet was discarded. No longer was he great warrior, but a man belittled.

When the great Thanes heard of the Thunderers plight, they loaded their ships and set off. Sven Rockish, Bulzan the Beater, and Vendias the Pillagers came to help their friend the Thunderer. Four hundred mighty Nordic warriors with spears and battle axes came raging to the homes of the demons. Berzerkers carrying weapons, came blazing to the homes of the demons.

To a rocky volcano, the Thanes and their men ran out of their ships. Warriors with great prowess and fire rose from the boats. These mortal men faced off against demons of the worst sort. Ogres from distant lands and dragons from the frosty mountains pummeled the men with elemental blasts. The warriors still pushed on, in the name of Thunderer.

They hacked and slashed with their battle axes as their chain mail gave way. Filled with berserker rage, they roared for more battle. These were not ordinary warriors. They enjoyed battle, they loved battle and the only death that would suit them would be a death in battle. Never had the demons encountered such powerful warriors and they were impressed. In the end it was a fruitless struggle, for what could mere men do to such powerful forces. In the final moment of their lives, the three Thanes cried out to the Thunderer.

The Thunderer ripped his lips from the demoness and saw his friends being slaughtered. They were dying for him and he was filled with shame. Marisha tried to seduce him once more, but it failed. The sight of his brethren being slaughtered had bought the Thunderer back to his senses. His courage and strength had final returned to his blood. He knew in his heart that he would be slave no more, for he was the Thunderer.

For nine days, Thunderer and Marisha battled. Then the demoness was caught unaware and a fist that held lightning struck her in the jaw. The demoness fell to the ground. The Thunderer raised his battle axe to finally slay her, but he found that he was unable. He saw into her womb and to his horror, he saw life. He saw his son's heart beating within her.

"I shall not slay you fiend, for you carry my child. Know it well, that child is the only reason that I let you live. I am the Thunderer and it fills me with rage that I should let you live. Nay, I shall not slay you or your child." With tears filling his eyes the Thunderer left the creature on the mountain. The child would later be born in the distant lands of Japan. His name would be Jinpach, Son of the Thunderer. A good child forever haunted by his demonic blood.

The son of the Thunderer would grow strong. His name was known far and wide. He was a great warrior, like the father he never knew. Not knowing either of his parents, Jinpachi tried to make his own life. He fell in love and had a son. He wanted to be a good father, but his demon blood would ruin things for him. Jinpachi was cruel to his son, Heihachi. It would not be long before the evil of his grandmother infected Heihachi as well. Though he had no demonic powers, Heihachi buried his own father beneath a mountain.

Pretty soon Heihachi had a son named Kazuya and Kazuya had the demon blood as well. From his blood came two other warriors. One was made while the other was born in the vilest of acts. Steve Fox and Jin Kazama were born and they too would be heirs to a legacy of battle. Steve Fox would bear the face of the Thunderer and Jin Kazama would wield the demonic powers of both parents. Alas, Steve has yet to prove his abilities. Both children were blessed with scars that that proved their unholy heritage. The thunder and fire in their souls would always be at war. As for Thunderer, he died of old age, but he watches over in his descendants and he is indeed filled with pain.


	11. Steve and Hwoarang: Blood Brothers

In a ring beneath a covered dome two warriors enter for combat. Like gladiators from some distant time, the two have come to make war upon each other. One stands while the other arrives. The thunder echoing outside the stadium foreshadows the violence about to arrive. A golden warrior, a child of the lion and the unicorn, stands with his fist above head. The warrior of bloodiest red opens the door and walks down the stairs. Shaded by his cloak of darkness, the red warrior has come to another man home to take away the other man's respect.

The cloak falls and slanted eyes glance into orbs of solid blue sky. There is a pause between the two fighters. Unsaid words were spoken in that hallowed silence, the silence beneath the storm above the dome, which is the silence before the true storm. Before havoc, when dogs are still upon their leash. Muscles tense and neither shall make his move. Two men, two great bulls, are about to charge into one another. One shall fall and the other shall rise in victory over another's broken body.

An unsung bell echoes in their minds and the two advance upon another. The spirit of England and Korea come into conflict as national pride sounds through the stadium without an audience. Pride, love, rage, torment, hate, aggression are all unleashed as the two merge into a singular force of nature. Cold and hot fronts come into contact and the tornado is sown. No longer a battle of mere men, but of giants claiming for the title of supremacy.

Low and high, left and right, these two bash into one another. Blood and sweat fill the air with a pungent scent, but none notice. So focused are these two battlers, these two pillars of human might, that even if they were both blind, it would not have affected their skills. Their bond in battle is an unknown bond, the bond, which rival warriors have for one another. They do not really hate one another, for hatred is a form of weakness. It is simply their duty to battle. They cannot stop it from happening, for it was written they would battle before they were even born.

Fists of lightning and feet of feet like hail batter the bodies. There is no thought of technique or strategy, for such things do not belong in nature. It is a primal force that makes these two men fight. This primal force lives in their young and hot blood. It burns them from the inside and they have no choice, but to obey. They have no choice, but to fight and hurt their fellow man. They have no choice, but to harm their own brother. Man exists to harm his brother, to take his land, to burn his crop, to steal his children, to mount his brother's skull upon his gates. These desires have echoed in out blood, since the time of our creation. The desires burn us to the point where nothing is left, until we are cold slabs of stone with no affection for one another.

White or yellow, it matters not. We are all men and we are all victims of the darkness that exists within all men. The storm that brews between these valiant souls is nothing more than the storm that brews between us all. It maybe our behavior, it maybe our wealth, it maybe our caste, it may even be our separate places in the cafeteria line, man will always find a reason to harm his brother. It is not hate, since it is the desire for power.

The storm rages on outside as it does inside. Trees are torn from their roots as a fist strikes a chin. Newspapers are blown across the courtyard as a foot connects with a solar plexus. No longer are they thinking, it becomes all natural, all instinct. The desire to bash, crush, smash and kill, kill, kill surges through their blood. Brake, hurt, bloody, maim, wreck, tear, and shatter.

Muscles were ripped and tendons were torn, while outside glass and metal was bent. Thunder boomed in the background as these two warriors attacked one another. Bones cracked from the continuous beatings both men received from one another. The lion and the unicorn did battle with the yin and the yang, until they had become raw. Swathed in uniforms of rage and torment, these two followed no rules. Ribs were split and necks were strained, but in the end neither felt any pain. With so much adrenaline pumping through their systems, they felt nothing.

No longer were the distinguishable from the corpses one would find in a horrific accident. Blood drenched their bodies, but still the continued. Crimson liquid spilled over their shoulders from giant cuts in their forehead. They stopped dodging and feinting. They stopped their continuous combinations.

It had become a monotonous fight, going back and forth, like the dying of a storm. First a fist was thrown and then a kick was thrown. Slowly and meekly, they went back and forth. Over and over again, in utter boredom they moved on. Strike was followed by strike. They began to grunt after hitting one another. Their wills were unbreakable, but their bodies were simply too strained to continue.

With one final movement, both men balled their hands into fists. The boxer threw an uppercut at his adversary's chin, while the red warrior bought a hammerfist down on his opponent's forehead. It was a tense moment as both men looked into the eyes of one another only to find mirror reflections of themselves in one another. Outside one final boom of thunder echoed as the fight ended. Both men, too exhausted to continue fell at the same time.

It was quiet and both would sleep a good rest. They were finally taken to a hospital and it would be a while before either required. No one stole the other's respect and in that they find that they were equals. The fist and the foot. The lion and the yang. The unicorn and the ying. The west and the east. They were brothers from that day forward. Broken they were and together they helped build each other up.

Together they would grow as flowers begin to grow after the storm is over. The damage would always be there, but the land would heal as their hearts would heal. Perhaps the reason for fighting shall never be truly discovered, but it is necessary. They shed blood with one another and they became a single entity at that moment. They shared the same thoughts and the same fury, bonding them forever. They were brothers in every sense of the word, for as William Shakespeare would say, "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers, For he to-day that sheds his with me shall be my brother."


	12. I am My Own Man

I will not be brought down into the depths of darkness. Indeed, I know what you are mother. I know the sins of my father and grandfather. So absorbed are all of you in your petty vengeances against one another, that you could not see me crying from the crib. Father, you sold your very soul for power and mother, you sold it for youth. Grandfather, you let a child come into this world without love. How could all of you hurt me like this? Was a bad child, which no one wanted? Am I a freak that nature itself cannot endure my very existence?

I know what you are mother. I know your murders and your cruelty. I know you hurt people just to earn mother. You hurt everyone around you and you don't care. You are an unfeeling, uncaring and undeserving creature, so cold that your heart is as solid as steel. Pain cannot affect you, for you feel no pain. You turned your own back upon your sister. You turned your back upon you flesh and blood.

When she wept upon your father's grave and asked for your friendship, how did you repay your sister? You rejected her hand of kindness in the cruelest way a person could ever imagine. She was your younger sister and she was jealous, but as an elder, it was your duty to look after her. You sank to her level and you never realized that she was lonely. Beneath all that hate, your sister was lonely. She didn't have the attention she wanted and that spawned anguish. She was tried to love you, but you would have none of that love.

You want to be lonely, don't you, oh my mother. You want to be alone in the dark with no one to hold your hand. You cannot give love to others, so how can you ever be among human beings. You are selfish in every way imaginable. You put yourself through this pain and you don't realize that there are people out there who need you. As hard as it maybe for you to conceive, you are need by people for things other than killing. Your sister needed you and more importantly, so did I. I am your son, an orphan. I had no one to help me or to hold my hand. I would sleep in the darkness and I would imagine who my mother was. Every night I wanted to cry for you, but you were never there.

You are more than just a cube of unfeeling granite rock. You are a killer and a petty one at that. So petty, that you would battle your own kin to death for just a shoe. Petty and weak is all that you ever were. It is easy to take life, but it is hard to nurture. It is hard to care for someone through the hardest and softest of times. Wrap yourself around your own pettiness, for that is all that you ever were. Vain and absorbed with your own beauty, that you put yourself into a long slumber to make sure that your beauty would not fade. I see through that beautiful face of yours and I am disgusted.

You are a monster, my mother. A monster that does not care who she kills. I know that I was intended to be one of your victims. You wanted to kill me and shoot me down like a dog. My only crime was standing up for my principles as a fighter, but you didn't care. You only saw the money and the chance to spill more blood. You are not a woman, you are a vampire. You hide in the night, enamored by your own beauty and taking the lives of the innocents.

Father, where do I begin? You know that I exist. The demon that hides in your blood knows who I am. I have seen you sometimes in the darkest of nights underneath the clouds. I see your shadow in the moonlight. I see the claws and wings spread above my bed as I close my eyes. I know you are there, watching over me. You watch, not out of love, but loathing. I am not the son that you had wanted, for I have no demon and I have no thunder in my hands.

You are consumed by your hate towards your own father and that hatred has blinded you. Consumed by your revenge, you have become nothing. All you are is vengeance and after that is achieved, you shall have nothing. You are nothing my father and I wish I did not have to say that. Your rivalry with your own kin is all that you are. You want power for the sole purpose of destroying your own family. I may be disappointed in my mother, but I feel only pity for you, father.

You are a victim of your own malice and I can never begin to fathom the type of pain you are in. You are a slave to your own demon and I cannot help you. I cannot help you because I don't whether or not you would accept me as your son. Can you not see it in my face, that I am your son? Of coarse you know that I am your son, but you can never accept me. You have already chosen another to follow your path. I am sorry, I can never fill those shoes.

My grandfather, there is no one I loathe more than you. You made my creation in a lab, but you gave me nothing. You did not give me the right to be born in the tenderness of a mother's womb. I was not the product of love. I was the product of a fruitless old man who cannot be happy with the fact, that he is not cursed. The curse that flows through your son and your father, does not flow through you, grandfather. You want the demon, when you could have so much more.

How dare you bring me into this world, with no love? You see yourself as something beyond humanity, but I know that you are human. You try to turn yourself into a monster and that is truly the sad part. My father has no choice, but to obey. You are seduced by nothing. You have made your own cage and you do not even care. You blame your father that you became such a man, but you take no responsibility for yourself or your company. You cannot accept there maybe others better than you, so you kill them.

Well I will not follow the same path as any of you. I am my own man. I may have been sired by two evil seeds, but I shall not succumb to corruption. My blood does not determine what shall happen to my soul or my heart. I am free to make my way in this world. So all of you can go about your plots and schemes to kill on another, but I shall rise. I shall reach out my hand to fate and be carried willingly into death. Beauty, youth and power have no influence over me. When my time comes, I shall enter the void happily. When I enter the void, my funeral shall be made of those that love me. That is the type of man I am, and I hope to stay that way. I will tear the cloak of misery from my shoulders and the world shall see me for what I truly am. All of you maybe my blood kin, but you are not my family. You may never see me under your noses, for I am just a Fox.


	13. Who am I

I am broken from the past and I have lost everything that I ever had. I was phoenix in the day and none could share my path. I was rage, I was fire, I was strength and I was power. I was born in red, white and blue. The colors in my veins, that throbs in my heart for the eternal majesty of the fighting world. I wish to be the man I used to be. When the days were young and the battles were small. When I held the iron fists in my hands, I was a king. All of this happened when I was still a man.

I was broken in two. As hard as I tried, in the end I lost all my pride. I have nothing to gain nor have I anything to lose. I was a broken man that became more broken. I lost and I lost, until I am, but shambles of the man that I was. In days when the greatest ones of all. Back when I was still a man, none would dare face my strength. I was the one true king of fighting world.

I faced the wrath of the mightiest of bears and I have looked into the eyes of demons. I have defeated an ogre once and I have seen so many things. I have stood by my friends and I have on occasion tricked a friend into joining my party. Those were my glory days, before I lost my mind. Those were the days when I still a man.

It is not easy being a fighter, for you get hit in the head so many times. Over and over the blows keep on coming. Do you think George Foreman named all of his sons George, because he was sane? Do you think Muhammad Ali shakes when he speaks because he was always like that? No, I am just like them. I should have retired and become a teacher, but something always happens bring me back to the ring.

I have taken a Hwoarang's roundhouse kick to my scull. I have been dropped on my neck by the great King of Wrestlers. I have received an uppercut to my chin by a middleweight boxing champion. I have even been axe kicked by one of the Mishima's on my forehead. I have received blow after blow to my head until my mind became mere fragments of what it once was.

I have become a shell of a man, a cripple if you please. My friends, the Laws, guard my secret well. They know I am not in my correct mind, so they take care of me. They try to make me a better person and I try my best to thank them, but I only screw up. I always screw up somehow even though I have the best of intentions. I am ashamed at how low I have sunk.

I keep taking shot after shot to my head because my body is now too slow to dodge. What is worse is that I only get slower as my training intensifies. I am not as young as I once used to be. I am not as hot blooded as I used to be. I can felt the tightness creeping upon my joints. I can feel my bones beginning to grow thin. My very muscles are beginning to slacken no matter how much I exercise.

I am beginning to see things with uncertain eyes. Things that should not even exist pass through my mind. Creatures from beyond the stars float in images across my orbs. I don't know what they want, but why can't they just leave me alone. They whisper to me and tell me things in a strange language. Some of them have large green heads while others are more insectoid. I don't know what they want with me.

I go to sleep and they are still there. No one believes in what I see, for they all believe that I am mad, but I know that I am not. Perhaps I am the only one that is sane while everyone else is mad? No that can't be right, for how is that possible? I must be insane. I must be out of my mind. My mind is lost, but how can I find it.

I am sick and tired of everyone laughing at me. I am going to prove to the world who I am. I am going to show everyone that I still have what it takes to win the King of Iron Fists Tournament. I will prove to everyone that none are my equal upon the battlefield. I have defeated Jin Kazama, Kuma the bear, Heihachi, and Ogre. I am a man and they will all learn to respect me. All I have left is my fighting.

With every hit I take, more and more brain cells die. My skull becomes more and more cracked. Overtime there is a chemical imbalance in my head, but I don't really care. If I must train day and night to prove that I am not a loser, then so be it. I must bend my will around my goals and never surrender. I am the phoenix and I shall come back to life once more. Death does not frighten me, for life means nothing without risks.

I speak out to all of you hiding behind your desk that think I am a mad man. I live my life to my maximum potential, so tell me now who is the stupid one? My life is a rush, one after the other. I live at the edge of the void, but I never fall in. I know I can never fall. I am pure and strong.

I shall prove to you all that I can still fly and that I can still reach my goals. My body is old, but my soul is young. I have just as much fire in my belly as any young goat that crosses my way. No one is going to bar me from all that I hold true to myself. I will come thundering down the road like fresh vengeance. None of the Mishimas shall make me waiver from my quest.

I will laugh at the star creatures as I race passed them on my path to victory. They can haunt me all they like, but I am not afraid to fight them. I am not afraid to battle anyone if need be. I will stare my fears in the eye and it shall be the fear that blinks first. Not one creature on the planet or on the universe will ever understand what it means to be me. Not one person on earth will ever see things the way that I see them.

My mind keeps drifting more and more as the day passes on. I begin to see illusions that none could ever dream. I sometimes can't tell reality from fiction because all my thoughts are old and fragile. I can't seem to even recall my own name. I can't even remember who I used to be at times. Then I read a page in my bio and it all comes back. Sometimes I wonder what shall become of me.

Oh no, it is happening again. The sheering headaches that come through me every day run down my mind. Brutal beatings from my past continue to resurface. My memory is falling apart again. Who am I, I seem to have forgotten my name?


	14. Bryan: The Axe Murderer

Drip and drip, the water spout dripped. Such serene a silence would hold a grievous monster. The little men with their toys would be coming to play and I am waiting to play with them. It is going to be so very fun and so very exciting. I can hardly wait to try out my new weapon. Chop, chop, like blocks of wood, things are going to roll. I can hear the police cars stop outside the building and a grim smile creeps across my face. I look outside and there she is. As usual she sends the underlings to find me first. I hoped she would appear first, but this shall have to do. I have been expecting this for a long time.

I stand behind the door as one of the underlings comes nearby. Before he can even knock down the barrier, I pull him inside the closet. He thinks he is protected in his bullet proof jacket and his police helmet, but he is so wrong. He tries to his gun, but it is too late for that. I tore off his helmet with ease. I take my wood chopper and whack, whack, whack. First I split his head open right down the middle, I can actually see the blood spewing out the sides of his temple. Then my next blow severs his neck from his shoulders. Blood begins gushing out the gaping hole that had once been his larynx. The human body has so much blood and one would be surprised at how much is pumped into our brains every second. The last blow does nothing due that stupid Kevlar bullet proof vest. I wish they had never invented Kevlar.

There were a few more underlings wandering around her, but I think I should save her for last. I want to take my sweet time and have some fun after all. I wish I could burst out laughing, but that would give me away and I would lose the game. Slowly I crept through the floors, unnoticed by all those around me. This is my building, I know all its secrets and they will never find me, but I will find them. I will watch the fear glimmer in their eyes as the last shreds of hope disappear in a crimson wash.

The next underling I caught was a fat man. Very portly for an officer, too many doughnuts for the belly, I believe. I strip of bullet proof vest before he could scream and I hacked right into his ribcage. I could smell the scent of urine permeating the air as I saw his still beating heart go bumpity bump. He was in too much pain too speak, but I didn't want to take any chances. I rammed the axe into his alveoli within his lungs, and large amounts of fat tissue poured out with the blood. He must have been a smoker. He lay their in a dying heap with eyes pleading for mercy. I could easily have ended his pain right there, but I just left him to die in slow manner. I didn't have the time to have fun with the just one of them.

The police man following the fat man was horrified beyond words. He screamed out loud at the sight of his dead and maimed partner. Oh, I do love screamers, but this one annoys me. In mid scream, I slam the axe across his mouth. I easily remove his lower jaw and tongue from the rest of his body. He looks at me with sheer pain and doom, that I could have laughed right there, but I didn't. Taking the blunt end of the axe, I thrust the weapon into the bleeding upper jaw, snapping the spinal chord and ending the man's life.

She finally visits the room with the rest of her underlings. I hide in the corner and I can smell the rage and frustration building within her. How enjoyable it was to see her suffer like this. I could see that she wanted to explode at that moment. The tension welling up in her temples was simply delicious. She had been hunting me for quite some time after I had found my new weapon. I suppose her rage was due to the seventeen other girls I had found before.

"All units leave the premises right now." She yelled at the others.

"But sir…" One of the officers began to talk, but she cut him off.

"But nothing, I am taking over from here. All of you leave the building immediately. That is an order, now all of you get out." She narrowed her eye brows at them and they left through the doors. I wanted to have fun with all of them, but you can't have everything I guess. She looked outward with an angry face. "Alright Fury, you want me, I am right here. Come on you sick son of a , I am right here."

"Miss Kazama, you wound me. Hahahahahhahahhahahahhahaaaa! I would have expected more of a threat from one of your stature." I said as I came out into the light. I stood before her in full view. The blood was still fresh upon my boots. I could tell that I disgusted her and that was just the way I liked it. So many emotions to play with and the game was becoming interesting.

"Drop the axe fury or I shoot." She ordered angrily. What a fool she was pointing her toy at me. As if guns were really any use against me. I came at her slowly and patiently. Going at her straightforward would have been something she would expect, but I try my best to remain unpredictable.

Bam, bam, bam, and the bullets are let loose, but they are useless against my metallic skin. With one stroke of my axe, the gun falls off as well as her hand. It was such a beautiful hand, soft, but strong. Blood begins to flow once more as she falls on her back into the fetal position while clutching her bleeding hand. I could have killed her at that moment, but I enjoy a good chase.

I watch as she rises up and begin to stumble around. With such a leak, it would only be a matter of time before she runs out of energy. I keep a steady pace behind her, mocking her and letting her know I that I could it all anytime I wanted. I want watch her try her very best and fail.

"I know your pride Miss Kazama. I planned this all out. I know your every move and all your abilities. Look at you now, weak and helpless. You're nothing, but a little girl and a frightened little girl at that. I hoped you would have put up more of a challenge, but I obviously overestimated your intelligence. The game ends now. Hahahahahahahahhahhahahha!" I laughed as I raised the axe up high.

Then I feel a sudden jabbing into my back. I turn around to see a dark stranger, a shadow of a man.

"Bryan, checkmate." Kazama smiles as thousands of volts of electricity suddenly rushes into my brain and I collapse on the ground. Clever wench, she had been a step ahead of me the whole time. In my last moment I heard the strange man speak.

"Bryan Fury…is dead."


	15. Don't Leave Your Son Behind

Dr. Boskonovitch could not bear watching the video on the screen anymore. The video was played like a monotonous clock and every time he played it an invisible knife cut into his soul. His dear Natasha, his sweet little girl of a tender age was dead. All he had left of her were memories. He had tried his hardest to conquer death and give mankind immortality, but it had not been enough to save his beloved Natasha nor was it enough to save Olga, his wife. Old and dying of a terminal spinal disease, Boskonovitch was near the point of insanity

It is sad when a parent outlives their child. A child that looses a parent mourns for what once was, but a parent that looses a child mourns for what shall never be. At times like these man becomes weak and forgets his soul. At times like these, man forgets his family and his friends. He becomes a broken shell with no one to put him back together. Shattered into a million different pieces as the universe come tumbling down upon his head.

Boskonovitch had done so much to benefit mankind, but what was his reward. Many of his Manji friends were dead after he preserved the life of Bryan Fury. Yoshimitsu's arm had been destroyed by the rampaging P-Jack. The sisters Nina and Anna had awoken in a new and unknown time. His experiments Roger and Roger Jr. were lost in the world. All of it was his fault. All of it was his own misgivings and he knew it in his heart. He wished he had left Mother Nature alone. He wished he had not been so bent on discovering the secrets of life and now he had opened the Pandora's Box.

"It ends tonight, I am coming home Olga, I am coming home Natasha." Boskonovitch muttered to himself as he cut the wires. Raw electricity sparkled at the end of the tube. With one touch, he would be with his wife and child. With one flick, they would be a family once more. No more pain and no more humiliation. All the horrors of life would be over in a few seconds. He was an old man, his death would be swift.

"Poppa, what are you doing?" A little girl sat in the corner in his lab. She wore a familiar pink coat that Boskonovitch had purchased many years ago in Moscow. Her teeth were filled with adorable braces and her hair tied in cherub-like pigtails. He knew her in an instant and his heart was beginning to waiver. His daughter was as plain as day, but she was still alive. None of it made any sense.

"You're not real. You are only in my head so go away." Boskonovitch yelled at the figment of his daughter. Eyes mad and filled with crazed fire, Boskonovitch looked into the apparition. It could not be real, for it had to be a trick upon his mind. His daughter was dead and he had buried her corpse beneath the ground. It was all just some horrible joke his mind was playing on him.

"Father, you know mother would be mad if you did that." The familiar voice resonated like music in his ears. Like enchanted bells echoing through a dying forest to bring back new hope and new life, the voice entranced him. How long had he waited to hear that friendly and innocent voice? How long had it been, since he heard a child speak to him?

"Shut up, you don't exist. You're dead, I buried you. You're dead because I couldn't save you!" Boskonovitch raved madly. His mind began to race and his throat became sore. Sweat drops began to pour from his temple as he stared at the illusion.

"You're being selfish father. It is not your time and there are people that still need you." Natasha's voice called out to him, trying to soothe the maddened old man.

"You don't understand. I am doing this for you and your mother. We will be together again as a family. Don't you see, this is for the better?" Boskovitch babbled as fast as he could.

"You're lying to yourself father. You are doing this because you are afraid of going on alone, but you don't realize that you are not alone. Think of all those you can still save. Think of all those people that will die if you don't help them." Natasha came over to her father and touched his skin. The warmth from her hand flowed into him and gave him ecstatic feeling of love long forgotten. It felt so real. Natasha whispered into his ear. "Most importantly, don't forget your son. Please, don't leave your son behind."

"What are you talking about, I have no son." Boskonovitch asked, but Natasha was gone. He was alone in the building with the sparkling wire at the end of his hand. It was all just an imagination. There was only one way for him to ever rejoin his family and that was death.

Then he heard the door slam, someone had entered his lab. Dr. Boskonovitch had not asked for anyone to enter at this late at night. An intruder was on the premises and it filled the poor soul with fear. He heard a few steps and then a voice came from the pitch of night as it rained outside, "Dr. Boskonovitch, are you here."

"Who is that?" Dr. Boskonovitch yelled back.

"It is me." The voice came abruptly as a reptilian creature stepped out from the darkness. Covered in green scales and weighing the same as a man the raptor made its presence known. Deep yellow eyes stared into the eyes of the doctor. Boskonovitch recognized the creature immediately. There was no mistaking the mighty jaws or the long prehistoric claws. A creature from sixty-five million years from an egg that had no hatched stood before him. It had come from an egg that Boskonovitch had nurtured.

"Alex, you came back." Boskonovitch was surprised to see the saurian standing upon hind legs, looking into his eyes.

"Yes, I came because you are not home. Why are you holding that wire? What are you planning on doing?" Alex asked nervously as he saw the wire hanging strangely from the doctor's hand like a python.

"I can't take it anymore. I have failed at everything, but not anymore. I can't live like this anymore. I want to see my wife and my child." Dr. Boskonovitch ranted at the unmoving reptilian.

"Please Doctor, you have not failed at anything or anyone. Whatever demons you face, let me help you face them." Alex tried to coax the Boskonovitch away from the wire, but the doctor held firm.

"You don't understand. Everything I ever made has failed. Everyone I have tried to help has gotten hurt. The world is better off without me." Boskonovitch stammered as he raised the wire high above his head. Alex went into a crouching position to see what would happen next. He had no intention of hurting the doctor, but his main objective was to keep Dr. Boskonovitch alive.

"Am I one of your failures then?" Alex asked as tears began to streak the old man's wrinkly face. "Am I just another failure that you wish that you had never done? Were it not for your work, I would not be standing here today. Am I just an abomination that you wish had never existed?"

"You don't know how I feel? I am all alone. I am dying man with nothing to show for in this life. You can't understand." Boskonovitch rebuked as hard as he could as his voice became raspier.

"Yes I do. I came into this world with no blood family. I have no culture. I have no people. I have no race. I am the last member of my species. There are no females of my kind walking the world today, so I truly know what it means to be alone. In the end, I was not alone, because you were there for me. You gave me intelligence and you taught me everything that I know. You raised me from an egg to a giant and I thank you for that. Without you, I would have always been alone. Let me help you as you helped me. Put the wire down, please." Alex answered.

"Why, is there a single creature on this planet that would care if I faded away?" Dr. Boskonovitch muttered.

"I would care. I would care most deeply, because you are all that I have." Alex slowly stepped forward. Boskonovitch looked into Alex's eyes with deep realization. Eyes not even human and a body not even mammalian did not matter to Dr. Boskonovitch. He saw what Alex had become over the years and it astounded him. In his haste he dropped the wire.

"Watch out!" Alex roared and leaped before the wire could even touch the Boskonovitch. He pushed the doctor out of the way and the electric wire struck Alex. For a grim moment, Dr. Boskonovitch could actually see Alex's skeleton as the electricity began to flow. Finally the wire was shook loose and Alex collapsed in a heap.

"Alex, no!" Boskonovitch hurried to the fallen reptile and gripped the monster in his arm. Great rivulets of water came rushing down Dr. Boskonovitch's face. He sobbed and sobbed for the reptile as its heart beat began to waiver. "Oh dear, I am a fool. Oh Alex, I am sorry. I am sorry that I am such an old fool. How could I have been so blind all these years? Please, don't die. I am begging you not to die. You're all that I have left. Please, don't leave me. I need you. Please, forgive me. Forgive me, my SON!"

"I forgive you." The reptilian voice coughed. "Have you forgotten that I am not human already? It will take more than a little shock to kill me."

The two held each other in an embrace the entire night. Dr. Boskonovitch wept and wept. If Alex were biologically capable of tears, the he would have wept as well. The small old man knew that there was at least one person that still cared about him. When Boskonovitch had finally cried himself to sleep, Alex stood up and carried the old man through the door on his way to Yoshimitsu's lair. "Lets go home now."


	16. Burning Ice

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" The demon roared as he shook Hwoarang by the throat. Hwoarang had wanted to push Jin to his limits. He had been warned about the devil that existed in Kazama. He knew what Jin was capable of, but still he wanted to push Jin. He wanted to see Jin's anger. He wanted to make Jin as enraged as possible, but unfortunately the plan had backfired. Hwoarang had been knocked unconscious.

"Put him down Jin." A calm, but firm voice came from behind him. The demon turned to see the eyes of a jaguar staring back at him. The luchadore had arrived on the scene just in time. He could see Hwoarang's limp body hanging in mid air in grotesque way, like a pinata. Jin's eyes filled with rage at the sight of the warrior. The wrestler had no right interfere. It was his business alone, but now the King had arrived.

"Shut up, all of you just shut up." Jin raved wanting to rip open Hwoarang's throat. He wanted to drink Hwoarang's blood and eat the still beating heart within. He would do this to Hwoarang and absorb the power within. All the might that dwelled within Hwoarang would soon belong to him. All would be his and the power to finally destroy Kazuya would arrive.

"Stop it now Jin, or I take you down, boy." King growled angrily. The jaguar mask seemed almost real and Jin could see strength within King that made him feel fear. A type strength that would match Jin's unholy origin resonated in King's belly. "I don't want to hurt you Jin, so don't make me. Put the boy down now. I am not asking you, I am telling you. What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"

"You can't tell me to do anything, you're my enemy. You are evil, you are all evil. I must purge this world of darkness. I will devour his soul, the Kazuya will pay for violating my mother, then my treacherous grandfather and then all those who murder and destroy shall pay. I will purify this world in blood itself." This was not the demon, but Jin that spoke.

"If everyone is evil, then how come you are killing Hwoarang. Is murder not evil?" King asked and the words pierced Jin's warped mind. He looked at the limp boy hanging at the end of his hand. Jin suddenly realized that his entire body was covered in blood, Hwoarang's blood.

"No, I can't" Jin screamed as he dropped Hwoarang and began clutching his head. Water flowed from his eye sockets and began to clear his sight. What was going on, he wondered. How could things have gone so far? He had tamed the devil within his own soul. He had conquered the beast within and this was not possible. Jin turned back to face King and screamed, "You lie, I am not evil. I control the demon. I am its master."

"Wrong Jin, no one can control the devil. You only think you control him, but you can't. You will never control him." King didn't even blink as the raging abomination towered over him. Electricity crackled, but King did not budge. Jin needed help and the boy would get all the help in the world. The world's greatest wrestler would not let Jin Kazama down.

"Liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liar, liiiiiiaaarrr! You are all deceptive sinners, hiding behind your lies. I know the truth within my heart. What I do, I do for the love of this world." Jin laughed. " A clever trick, but I shall not be fooled by likes of you."

"Your own heart lies, because it is filled with the abomination of the Devil. He is the prince of liars and you have fallen into his trap. There is only one monster here and you know very well who it is. You are not doing this for the sake of the world, but for your own hatred towards your father. The being within is feeding off your hate. The hate you bear towards your family consumes you and thus he consumes you as well." King roared back. "The Devil is using you like a pawn and you cannot even see it."

"Your wrong, this has nothing to do with my father!" Jin shouted as he unleashed a blast of light at the wrestler. King smoothly avoided the attack and tackled the great beast with the force of a charging buffalo. He tackled the demon to the ground and pinned him upon his back.

"No, I am right. This has everything to do with your father. The hate you bear towards him gives nourishment to the monster. Let go of your hate and embrace your soul. Find freedom from slavery. Find kindness from cruelty. Find light within the dark." King shouted as he began pounding away at Jin's face.

"I am no one's slave, you fool. I am Jin Kazama and I shall have my revenge." Jin roared as an electric charge shot through King.

"Yes you are." King snapped out of the daze and smacked Jin across the face with the back of his hand. King took a shard of metal from the ground and held it before Jin's face. He made Jin stare into his own reflection. He showed Jin the eyes of the monster and the eyes of death. He showed Jin, what he had become. "Look into the eyes of the beast boy and see whether or not if you are still Jin Kazama. Look into the eyes of a monster that tries take the souls of others, just like Ogre. You have become the very thing you hate most. You have become Ogre and you have become your father. You have accept the demon within and now it has destroyed you. Look into the mirror, Jin Kazama and see what has become of you."

Jin looked into the mirror and the truth hit him like a wave of bricks. He saw Toshin and Kazuya in that mirror, which disgusted him. An image passed through his mind of his mother being butchered by Ogre. The image of Ogre was replaced by his own. All that the demon had told him had been a clever lie. With a pain of realization, Jin roared. "Nooooo!"

"Don't lose faith Jin. You can still defeat him. You may not be able to control him, but you can caste him out. Find the strength within, find the love that still beats in you soul. Let go of your anger and you shall be a free man once again." King shook Jin's shaking body.

"No, you need me!" The demon roared in fear, but he could hide no more. Kazama could see the beast with the eye of his mind. He found the image of Jun Kazama and that love gave him the might to face the Devil. No longer would he be manipulated like a marionette, nor would he be used like the victim of a parasite. Jin Kazama had a rage towards his family, but King had also been wrong. The true hatred Jin had felt was against himself. His own self-loathing had spawned the beast, but that was no longer the problem. Jin finally found the one thing he never had. He found the courage to love himself. After all, the greatest test a man can face in life is to love himself for who is. Hiding in lies and deceit, which were ripped away by the truth, the demon quivered. Within Jin's body, the two wrestled for control over the body, but it was no contest. Jin Kazama defeated the Devil and caste him out of his body. A raging apparition came screaming out of Jin's mouth and dove into the earth itself.

"Oh god, what have I done?" Jin moaned in pain.

"Nothing, the Devil has fooled the best of us." King nodded and rushed to Hwoarang's broken body. "For now, let's get the kid to a hospital. He'll probably just wake up angry tomorrow, you just knocked him unconscious."

"Thanks, for all that you have done." Jin bowed before King as helped pick up Hwoarang.

"I did nothing. You won the battle." King smiled as the two walked off into the distance.


	17. King Midas

Lee Chaolan sat at his desk in the Zaibatsu building and he discovered that he was alone. He had imprisoned his own father, Heihachi Mishima in a dungeon and his brother, Kazuya had vanished. With all his richness and power, he was a lonely man. Women, money, drugs and all the material objects were in the palm of his hands, but it didn't mean anything. None of these women on his arms actually cared about him. He was just another dollar sign in their eyes.

All his wealth and power couldn't give Lee the attention he had yearned for. Piles of paperwork upon piles of paperwork cluttered his office. Day in and day out, he signed contracts and deals. A continuous monotony of endless work boiled his brain nearly to the point of explosion. A rich playboy with no more time to play, he was forced to grow up. After forty years of worthless playing around, Lee Chaolan had to become an adult.

His company couldn't function without him. He was top dog, but he was always busy worrying about the other dogs. He never had a single moments rest in all of the hustle and bustle. Boredom heaped upon boredom, to the point where a man could go completely insane. His building was filled with employees that all looked the same. They all wore a white shirt, blue khakis and black ties. He wondered if he was the last man on earth left with some sense of style or individuality.

This was just sheer stupidity personified a thousand folds. There were times when Lee would stand next to a wall and do nothing, but ram his head at the wall. It was a mundane life that he was unaccustomed to. It made him feel ill just to think that he had any part of such a company. He wondered how Heihachi and Kazuya endured such a pathetic existence. He never once considered the possibility that there would be more to own Zaibatsu other than lounging around with half naked females.

Now that he was so unbelievably rich, he was being sued by numerous females. Apparently during his younger years, he had sired a large amount of offspring. His secretary had reported that over three hundred and twenty seven women claimed that they had children from his blood. Through DNA testing some of the women were proven liars, but the majority had been telling the truth. Lee Chaolan had created his own tribe. In a few generations, his scientist predicted that his very name would be written into the annals of the human genome.

The parties became boring and the alcohol began to lose its flavor. He was going completely insane. The playboy life and the cutthroat business life were just simply unbelievable. He was completely unready to take on such a life. He wanted to have fun, but this wasn't fun. In this dark moment, Lee Chaolan realized something he had never known before, life was not fun.

His whole life had been a complete waste and sham. He spent his days acquiring money and women, but what did he have to show for it. He had nothing at all, just a few hundred illegitimate children that were now in their early twenties. After a lifetime of non-stop party, he basically had nothing. He had no real family nor did he have anyone to love him. He was a child in a grown man's world.

Everything was about money, but nothing had any soul. All the art galleries in his hallways meant absolutely nothing to him. He never had a quiet moment with a mother or a father. He never would know the joys of being a "real" dad or a husband. He would only know the same type of life that he had been living. There was no real escape for him. He was a prisoner and the walls were made of stacks of money.

There were times in his dreams where he saw golden coins falling from the sky. He would stand in the sun all by himself as the metal broke his skull open. He would then wake up screaming, but there was no one in his bed to comfort his pain. In the darkness Lee Choalan broke down and began to cry. He didn't want things to be this way. All he ever wanted was to be loved and admired, but now he saw that no one really admired him.

His father Heihachi had been right all along. Lee Chaolan was nothing more than a lazy spoiled brat with hoards of worthless pleasure girls. Not one of these women in his harem could carry on an intelligent conversation. They were all vain with mindless prattle about soap operas, shoes, lip stick, and other stuff that he could never understand. It was as though these women were complete aliens to him. He began to find them annoying and a nuisance.

He finally decided to call the lowest paid man in his company, a janitor by the name of Forest Law. Lee had known Forest as a sharp martial artist in the third Iron Fist tournament and Forest's father had been in four different tournaments. Lee had never paid much attention to the Law family until now. He wanted to know what it was like for them to live without money.

"Yes sir." The young Chinese male appeared before him. Forest was wearing a dirty pair of jeans and a greasy white shirt. The young boy was just as poor as his father. It would be perfect for Lee. He could see the young male was nervous and there was a sense of fear. Most of the time workers were afraid of getting fired.

"How long have you been working here Forest?" Lee asked as he sipped some wine.

"About tw…tww..two years sir." Forest stuttered. Lee was becoming annoyed by the boy's behavior. He acted like a guilty man at an execution.

"Do you have a family?" Lee asked as he folded his hands and stared into Forest's eyes.

"Yes sir." Forest quivered.

"Would I be imposing too much, if I were to come to dinner to your home tomorrow?" Lee asked smugly.

"No sir, not at all. I would love to have you at our home." Law chirped as though he were a child with breath of helium.

"Good, I shall see you tomorrow. You are dismissed." Lee snapped his fingers and Law rushed out of his sights.

The next day Lee appeared at the home of Law. It was a very quaint home, with much scarring. It looked as though the house had been attacked in some sort of war. Lee was dressed in a casual tuxedo, but he tried to keep himself clean. Stepping over a broken bicycle, Lee approached the front door. He became nervous and worried. What if Marshall was in the home? Lee's brother, Kazuya had once hired Baek Do Son, to destroy Marshall's dojo. What was he thinking coming to this home?

"Hello there Mr. Chaolan. I am glad you came to have dinner with us." A plump face poked through the door. This woman was not as beautiful as any of his harem girls, but she had a certain cherry in her cheeks. Here beady little eyes combined with her pudgy cheeks astound Lee for a moment. She didn't seem to be afraid of Lee Chaolan whatsoever.

"Is this the Law residence?" Lee wiped his brow.

"It most certainly is, please come in sir." Marshall appeared beside his wife. Marshall was in his usual martial arts outfit. The man was well built and he seemed calm. Lee expected a raging man out for vengeance, but Marshall was rather docile. They invited him into their home and they treated him like a king. They didn't treat him nice for their son, but rather out of their own kindness. Linda Law, Marshall's wife, had a grace and a style to her that surpassed all the gold diggers in his mansion. Linda could talk about politics, religion, ethics, sports and business. Marshall was indeed a lucky man to have such a woman.

At dinner they laughed and joked like a real family. They gave Lee the best servings and even made a few jokes out of Lee. It was an enjoyable moment filled with warmth and a sense of family. This was something Lee had never had and looking at Linda, Lee began to feel jealous of Marshall. Marshall Law had a most extraordinary wife. The Laws later took Lee bowling with them. It was something Lee had never been able to experience. It was fun that didn't involve sex or drugs, something Lee never thought plausible. It was comical and competitive at the same time. Linda beat them all easily and later he actually at noodles from noodle cart.

At the end of the night, Lee had come to a decision. "Forest, this has been an extraordinary evening and I have made up my mind about you. I have seen your family, your food and your home. You give me no other choice."

Forest closed his eyes expecting to be fired. Lee happily smiled and clasped Forest's shoulder, "You are now the new owner of Mishima Zaibatsu. I step down as owner of the company. All money, material objects and assets under my ownership now belong to you."

Forest, Linda and Marshall just stood there with their mouths hanging wide open. Lee just winked at them and said, "I bid you all a good night. Thank you for opening my eyes."


	18. Kazuya's Love

"Little Frog, where are you hiding." A friendly voice came from behind Kazuya Mishima. The young boy cheerfully got up and gave his grandfather a hug. The graying beard tickled Kazuya's forehead. In these arms Kazuya would always feel safe. In these arms, Kazuya would always be protected. This was his true home and no matter what, he would always be able return to these arms. His grandfather was the only one who cared about him.

"Do you have any sweets today grandfather?" Kazuya asked gingerly as he sat on his grandfather's lap. Kazuya always expected his grandfather to have some sort of sweet. In a way, Jinpachi spoiled his grandson. This time there were no sweets from Jinpachi. There was nothing, but pain in those ancient, yet loving eyes. His grandfather had a face of stone.

"No Kazuya." Jinpachi sighed. There was something about his voice that scared Kazuya. The aura around his once happy grandfather seemed out of place. Where once there had been nothing, but love, now shall exist a grim reality. Kazuya had not known the pain of the outside world. He did not know what true pain was all about. Kazuya had no concept of death or abandonment.

"I am going to be gone for a while. I don't know when I shall come back. I don't know if I shall ever come back. You are two young to know this Kazuya, but now is the time for you to know something about our family." Jinpachi lifted Kazuya in his arms and carried him outside. Kazuya was afraid to even say a single word. It was a silent trip under a bright day. Birds and bees were making their morning songs, but none of that could affect Jinpachi. He seemed as though he were in a trance or an illusion.

They walked and walked until they came to a mountain and on this mountain there was a small pit. It was hallowed ground and for a brief moment Kazuya swore that he saw a ghost appear before his eyes. The apparition was almost human, but translucent. It had no substance and the wind that crawled up these grassy slopes did not affect the being. Jinpachi turned his head to Kazuya. "Do not let your great grandfather's spirit bother you Little Frog, he will never harm us."

"Grandfather, where are we?" Kazuya asked nervously as the winds began to rush past him faster and faster. He could hear voices within his own mind. Voices deep and full of thought, but he was unable to comprehend the words. The little boy was almost scared out of his mind and it was a good thing he could squeeze his grandfather's hand for comfort.

"This is where all of shall return Kazuya." Jinpachi smiled happily. "Remember that we are never alone Kazuya. We are always family, generation upon generation. If you ever need me, this is a place your may find me. Behold Kazuya, this is your history. This is our legacy. In this pit I burned my father's corpse and he burned his father's corpse and he burned his. My father took me here a long time ago to explain to me what life was. I was older than you of course. I hope someday that you bring your own son or grandson here."

"What is going on Grandfather?" Kazuya pleaded.

"Kazuya, there is a good chance that I may never come back. I want you to be strong Kazuya. You may be the strongest member of our family ever to be born. I am only sad because I will never be able to witness your greatness or your skills." Jinpachi said in a hollowed voice.

"Pleased don't leave." Kazuya whimpered in his grandfather's arms, hoping that it was all just a dream.

"I must go Kazuya, but know that I am with you forever as are you forefathers. Our spirits shall always be one my dear grandchild." Jinpachi and Kazuya held each other on sacred ground upon the ashes of their ancestors. Blood and bone were all one here. The spirits around Kazuya and Jinpachi seemed to wail in pain as well. It was as if they could sense the pain just as good.

Kazuya Mishima was carried back home that day, but soon his grandfather had to leave. Day upon day, week upon week, Kazuya did not see his grandfather. There was no sign of him nor was there any trace. It was as if Jinpachi Mishima had disappeared from the face of the world. Kazuya found himself alone and his perceptions on reality had changed. Nothing was forever and soon it would all be gone. All of his toys and presents seemed of little or no value. He would have traded it all just to see his sweet grandfather just one last time.

Kazuya's father entered the house one morning and the truth finally crossed Kazuya's mind. There could only one person responsible for the loss of Jinpachi. There was only one man cruel enough to do such a thing and this very same creature lived in the very same house as Kazuya. His father, Heihachi was behind all of this and there could be no doubt in his mind about what had happened

Jinpachi Mishima was dead and Kazuya could feel it in his heart. He could feel the sorrow and the anguish of his ancestors within the very bowels of his mind. This sick feeling of dread fostered a newer hatred for his father. Kazuya knew who had taken his grandfather away and it sickened him to know that it would be his very own father that had taken part in such a practice.

"Where is grandfather!" Kazuya screamed as he feebly attacked his father in the knees. None of Kazuya's blows were worth anything. It did not even make Heihachi flinch a single muscle within his body. Kazuya wept and wept for his grandfather. Blows flew through the air mixed with tears. His grandfather was the kindest man Kazuya had ever known and this heartless monster had taken his grandfather away. With every single fiber in Kazuya's body there would always be a longing to meet his grandfather again. The longing was something that ate away at Kazuya like a parasitic rodent. This was a great blow to his mind and from that day forward, Kazuya would be changed. This would be the birth of the cold blooded prince.


	19. Ganryu

I gave my heart to her and my love upon a silver platter. Then I was struck down and left within the dust. Surely this is pure madness upon pain. I let her come close to my heart, only to have my very spirit ripped out and stomped upon. Michelle, I am sorry that I could not be the man you would want to have. My hands are filthy from working with Kazuya, for I am just a mere shadow of a man, never to be the human being of your desire. The whole world laughs at me and thinks me a fool.

Well I have something to tell everyone in this world, who are you to judge and laugh at me. The pain of having your heart broken is unimaginable. I can be body dropped and hipped tossed a thousand times, but there is no pain like that of being broken by a woman. There is no greater pain than losing your heart to a woman and then having the very fabric of your humanity stomped upon.

I doubt many of you even have the courage that I have. I know that I am not attractive to most women, but at least I have the heart to try. I face the furies everyday, hoping for a miracle, knowing that my chances are slim. I try harder and harder, because I know that a life without love is not a life at all. Everyday I am going to get older, and uglier, but I don't let that hold me back from trying.

Who are you all to laugh upon me? Tell me why I am less than you? Tell me why it is funny that I am to always have my soul stomped upon? Tell me why it is humorous that I feel pain and you do not? How would you feel if someone laughed at you right after you were damaged by the claws of love spurned? Tell me how that makes me less of a man than all of you.

You call my mawashi a diaper and you have no respect for sumotori. You think I am just an old fool now out looking for young love, because of the Julia incident. Well maybe I am old fool, but who are you all to place judgment upon me. All you ever see is the exterior and you never see the man inside. You never see my pain and you never see my sorrow. So tell me in the name of all that is good in this universe, why my failures in life are so humorous to you.

Laugh upon me, ridicule, humiliate me, what business is it of yours? I find it sad that people and human beings can laugh at the suffering of another creature. It is sad and pathetic as well. What kind of human being takes pleasure in another's downfall? It is sadistic, mean and cruel, but what does that matter? The only thing that matters to any of you is getting your cheap laughs.

It is one thing to see another in pain, but another to feel it yourself. When you stand there on that sacrificial alter, ready to bleed your heart out for the one you cherish most in this life, you make a choice of love and pain. For every gain in life, man must take a risk. The higher the pot, the lower you can fall. I have fallen into the dust itself and still I rise up for more.

Well guess what, I shall recover from my pain. I recovered from Michelle and I shall recover from Julia. I may never become Yokozuna, but I have made my own stable within Hawaii. I pass the tradition of sumotori to the American people. I am finally able to gain some shred of honor. A hint of dignity is all that I have, but it is all that I shall ever need. It is all that I have ever wanted within my life.

Love comes and it breaks you apart. It is especially hard when there is no one around to help you pick up the pieces. It is hard when there is no one to help you rise up from your shame and give you back your confidence. It is at times like this that a man needs to get back on his feet with his own inner strength. If only any of you were watching the second King of the Iron Fist Tournament. It was a glorious tournament and I was pitted against the best in the world. In the end I finally got my reward for hard work. I may not have won the tournament, but I gained enough money to open my own stable and become a stablemaster.

I may never reach my dreams of becoming a Yokozuna, but at least in a way I have reclaimed my honor. My own family, my mother, my okami, my stablemates and my stablemaster may have abandoned me for dishonoring the sacred traditions, but I still cling to one last sliver of dignity. In Hawaii I am reborn, no one judges me for my past because I left that in Japan. I can begin anew with a fresh slate and I can determine a fate more honorable than the I had before.

Yes I know that I worked for Kazuya. I was thrown caste out of the dohyo because of my gambling addictions. I had no other choice than to go Kazuya Mishima and accept his offer. I did a terrible deed back then, when I chose to work for Kazuya Mishima. I sold my very soul to the devil himself, literally. Kazuya was a cruel man and cruel employer. I watched him as he did his conniving deeds. I saw him send his men out into the world to destroy what little innocence was left in this world. Kazuya's claws sank deep into every bit of corruption upon earth. His reach went beyond the limits of any normal criminal. Everything from children taking Ecstasy to politicians laundering tax payer money was encompassed in Kazuya's iron grip.

In the end I could take it no more. Before Heihachi could take back his Zaibatsu, I went up to Kazuya and told Kazuya where he could stick his money. I had lost everything I had, but I could take no more. I was still a man and every soul has a chance at redemption. I may be a very shy person that lets others do my talking, but it is never too late to earn back what was once yours. I tell this to all the human beings in this world that have suffered or walked the path of darkness. There is always hope at the end. There is always a chance for a man drowning in a sea of turmoil, to burst out and take what rightfully belongs to him.

I have had enough anguish in my life to last a lifetime, but the world is filled with joy and hope. There is always a chance for rebirth and renewal in this world. There is always a chance that a man may find some sort of forgiveness and inner peace within his own heart. I call out to you that judge me so harshly, to not be cruel to those less fortunate than yourself. Ask your self this one question, if it had been you that were heartbroken, would it be alright for me to laugh at you?


	20. Victory Denied

Strength is all that is within, but when strength is gone it is a difficult for a man to regain that strength. I am older than time for I am the very product of destruction. Upon my hands fell the greatest of warriors, one after the other, the warriors would crumble. I would see the world burn before me into dust and cinder. Within great warriors there will be strength, a certain power, which only few champions can ever attain. I want that strength. I want the strength of the demon.

"OGRE!" The demon child roared as he approaches me. He is different now, for he has become a monster just like me. He does not know that is more than just the demon within that I crave. No, I crave the man behind the demon. It takes an iron will to bend the will of a demon and this child does not have any. He is a raving lunatic bent upon vengeance, unable to make decent strategy. This time the battle shall not end with him as the victor.

The boy rushes at me like a burning phoenix from the depths fiery underworld. Thunder and lightning gripped around his body, but it matters little. Such awesome force and power without direction means absolutely nothing. I stand there for a few moments as the blazing inferno comes thundering down upon me. The very heat from the boy is enough to make my skin wither. At the last moment, I simply step aside as the human fireball collides with the ground.

Memories of my defeat still echo within my mind. The power of vengeance now belongs to both of us now. I spill his blood as he once spilled my blood. The demon child rises towards me with eyes of heavenly stars. Before he can even fire, I smack his face aside in a monstrous blow. The lances of pure light energy go into the abyss of the universal night. Grabbing him with both arms, I ram him into a stone wall, breaking him.

Just as I believed that victory would be mine, a fist of raw energy connects with my jaw. Electricity spews through the air and throughout my body. I am stunned by the blow and for a moment, I become blinded by. In this moment the creature latched upon me. His rage demented him beyond all imagination. This is the fury of Jin Kazama, the raw power, the madness of the beast. In a serpentine hold, the boy tries to wrench my neck to the point of breaking.

I am ogre, I am beyond human and demon. I was before all of this. I shall not lose again. There is a beast within me just as there is a beast within him. My arms begin to elongate as I am over whelmed with pain. Wings sprout from my back as horns erupt from my scull. Great tusks begin jutting from my lower jaw. My body becomes large and my feet turn into hooves. The demon boy is overwhelmed as I tear out of my embrace. Today would be my victory.

The dark angel steps back as if mesmorized by my awesomeness. I attack him once more with hatred unrivaled. A giant fist twice of the size of his head slams into his body. The blow is more than enough to kill an ordinary man, but not this man, not Jin Kazama. He will not fall, nor shall he allow himself to fall. He stands there and turns to face me once more, with eyes of molten red coals. In this moment, I actually felt fear. His fist charges up once more with energy. I try to stop him, but it is too late.

A thunderous crack strikes me once more. He becomes an engine of pain. I can feel his pain within every strike, the pain of losing one's mother. I relish the look upon his face, such darkness and coldness. Love turned and twisted into an abomination of malice. This is truth behind every man, for behind every man lurks a monster. In the darkest moment Jin Kazama forgoes his ideals and he becomes a mere animal, forsaking his own soul for the power of the devil.

He has found the devil within, but he has lost the man inside. His humanity is a strength, which he often ignores and therein lies the irony. Once the demon and the boy had fought together, but now I battle nothing, but the pawn of the devil. He has nothing to bring me down, so he continues his barrage, till one of my tusks is knocked off my jaw. With a loud crack of bone, the tooth is sent fly along with a spatter of my own blood.

I refuse to fall once more, this time it will not be my body that falls to defeat. With a great roar I grab the demon in a crushing embrace. I can feel the air basically coming out of his body, draining him of much need oxygen sustenance. Then it occurs to me of how I should truly kill my greatest enemy of all. I grab his wing with a single hand and begin to rip. I can hear him scream through the laughter of my own mind. I jerk and torque the wing with all my strength, until I finally hear a snapping sound.

The wing of the demon is ripped off the body with such ease. I hold his bloody form in my hands, but the deed is not done. I begin to fly up to the sky once more, carrying the already beaten body of devil boy. He hangs there limply as I fly higher and higher. The air is cold as my heart as we rise into the atmosphere. My enemy is barely even conscious, for the blood loss has affected his mind.

I raise him above my head as though he were a trophy. Then I release him from my grip. He is sent plummeting towards the earth. Unable to flap his wings, he can do nothing. He knows there is no escape, so he does not scream. I watch as he falls farther and farther towards the solid rock earth, knowing that my victory would soon be at hand. I would feed upon his soul. Licking the blood off my talons, I hear a great thud upon the ground.

Soon victory would be mine and I would reign supreme above the earth. I would have the souls of all those foolish enough to stand in my path. Flying low upon the ground I watch the demon squirming in pain, but it is not enough. I open my jaws and a flame comes rolling out. I completely burn him over and over to make him writhe in agony. When the fight had completely left him, he reverted back to his human form, unconscious and helpless.

This would be the end of Jin Kazama. I lower my head to drive my jaws into his skull. Before contact was made, I found myself sprawling upon the ground, as though I had been kicked by a horse, but what I saw was even worse than any horse. Before me stood the mere mortal, who had once evaded my wrath. His flowing white robes fluttered in the wind as did his blackish white hair. I looked upon him and I saw the eyes of a hawk staring back at me. Only three words escaped my lips, which were quivering in sheer animosity, "BAEK DO SON!"

"Nice to meet you again, Toshin. If you remember correctly, we have some unfinished business to take care of." The Korean man smiled and dared to stick out his chin proudly. This was supposed to be a battle of giants and I am disturbed by a mere instinct that I had determined long ago, did not even deserve to have his soul drained. This little man dares interrupt the greatest victory I shall ever have. Now he dares to jut out his ugly chin and smile at me.

"Stand aside, I shall devour you soul later." I growled at the human. He simply shrugged as though I were no threat at all. This human, that I had knocked unconscious with a single blow two years ago, dare to have the audacity to shrug at me. This man dare insult me again. I felt like tearing off his skull and drinking the fluids within.

"You know, with all that soul devouring, you are beginning to put on some weight." The man chuckled at me. This was the final straw, for no more insults would be bore. I lunged at this creature, but he nimbly stepped aside and with great acrobatic prowess, he delivered a kick to my wing. I heard a snap and realized that he had broken my wing. I was stranded upon the ground.

"You dare to face me after what I had done to you? Do you honestly think that you even stand a chance?" I shouted as I lunged once more. He nimbly blocked my fist and raised his foot into the air, above my head. Then he bought the foot down upon my skull as though his leg were a type of axe. My second tusk was knocked out of my jaw. Reeling backwards, I watch the man smiling at me.

"No this is my victory. How can you defeat me, you are only human? Tell me, what makes you believe that you have it within yourself to become the victor?" My foot stomps into the ground, making the very trees around the old tae kwon do fighter shake a little.

"You are a coward ogre that defeats people by fear, intimidation, and brute force. Jin Kazama defeated you once, but now that he is no longer in control of his body, you find him easy prey. Even now you still have not beaten Jin Kazama, you have only beaten the demon. You do not have the courage to face the real Jin Kazama. You take the souls of others, because you don't have the courage to earn your strength the way others do. You don't even know the meaning of strength." Baek pointed at me with an accusing finger, unafraid and without fear.

I open my jaws to unleash the fury once more. The burning death comes rolling out, but Baek does the impossible. He jumps into the air with grace of a swan. He leaps nearly twenty feet above the air, which is impossible for a human. He jumps so high that it seems as though he can fly. A mere man challenges me and then he brings down his foot on my horns. My face is burned within my own flames. The fire is all over my face and I swing my arms hoping find my opponent. In my blindness I stumble and fall upon a jagged piece of rock. The stone stabs into my flesh and through my heart. I am defeated by my own blindness, in more ways than one.

"Perhaps you should learn some tae kwon do." I hear a smart remark.


	21. Return to Honor

I have done horrible things in my life. Things more horrible than I care to mention, haunt my dreams. Delusions of grandeur and love have blinded me into becoming disgrace. I have shamed my stable, my stablemaster, my fans, my people and the way of Ozuma. I have no right to call myself a rikishi, let alone a Yokozuna. I have nothing, but dishonor mounted upon dishonor. I longed for love from a woman that I had harmed, then I longed for it from a child like a blind fool.

I have fallen from the highest of peaks to the pit of humiliation, truly I have disgraced the art and tradition of sumotori. It is a great humiliation, which I have bought upon myself, a shame that none of you can understand. None of you can imagine the strain and pain one must go through to attain the rank of Yokozuna. It is grandest of all prizes and only few have touched it.

There is a joy in watching people smile as you throw your opponent out of the ring. Only a fool believes that sumotori is not a fight. I have seen some sumotori throw 2.7 palm strikes in a second. I have seen awesome moves such as the bell hammer back body drop, the lateral drop, fisherman's throw, reverse fisherman's throw, armbar throw, reverse arm bar throw, inner thigh scoop slam, outer thigh scoop slam, koshi-nage and ketaguri. Indeed most people do not know that there are two forms of sumotori, Okinawan and Edo. In Edo, the objective is to push your opponent out of the ring or make any part of their body aside from their feet touch the ground while Okinawan, one can only win by making their opponents hit the ground. I first took up Okinawan style to help me with my throws, then I switched over to Edo for the money.

When I first entered the world of Edo, it was sort of difficult, due to my lack in size. It was easier for my larger opponents to push me out. Larger meant harder to move, but I never gave up. I battled great giants, palm for palm to work into the clinch and once I got their, I would bell hammer back body drop them over my head. Of all the throws, sweeps, slams, drops, hand strikes, there is nothing more gratifying then to bell hammer back body drop someone. It is a magnificent move that demands perfection, but if done incorrectly, your opponent would throw his weight backwards and slam your face into the floor in a brutal ketaguri. Imagine lifting your opponent onto your shoulder, then spinning and slamming them upon their backs. With great and loud boom, my opponent would be finished. I became famous for my bell hammer back body drops. It sort of became my signature. Boom, boom, boom, I would break my opponents.

The whole was riding upon my shoulders and I was happy. The people loved me for being their favorite in the tournament. They would shout my name down the streets of Japan. I kept going further and further, but I couldn't. As the years passed my strength waned and I did not have the power to battle anymore. I did the ultimate disgrace in that moment. I took a needle filled with steroids and dishonored my very body. It is now a problem amongst the ranks of Ozuma. A struggling rikishi would take a shot or two to get some wins.

I had forgotten what Ozuma was all about. Ozuma is not just a sport it is a way of life. It is how a professional sumotori must conduct himself in a manner of honor. The art was created thousands of years ago by the samurai warriors. The samurai would often train in sumo to learn how to maintain their balance, so that they could always stay on their feet. Even today a sumotori will tie his hair back as the tradition samurai had once done. In fact sumo at one time was a much more savage creation. It was bloodier than any other form of combat, except maybe for the gladiator battles in Greece. A sumo match would be made to solve political disputes. Matches had no rules except two, make your opponent submit or kill him. It was not until the Heian period of Japanese history that rules were adopted and techniques were refined, thus it slowly became a battle of giants. How sad those ancient samurai must be today to see what I have become. I have disgraced an entire heritage.

I gambled and cheated behind the backs of my friends. I became everything that I a sumotori should never become. I was a liar and an infidel. Then my stablemaster found out the truth. He came into my room and found the needle. He knew what I had done and how I had disgraced myself. He knew how I had cheated and betrayed all of the things he had tried to teach me. He looked upon me with such pain and sadness, that I simply could not bare his eyes upon me.

"Master you do not understand, I need to win. I must do this to bring money into our stable. It is only a few victories, just enough to keep the stable going." I pleaded, but my stablemaster only looked upon with a sadden gaze as though he were in a trance.

"Ozuma is not just a sport, it is a way of life." He turned away from and left me there in a pool of my own shame. I couldn't take it anymore, so I left to enter the King of the Iron Fist Tournament. I hoped that by winning that I could earn back what I had lost. If I could win then I would have enough money to keep the stable going. I was confronted and defeated by ninja, Yoshimitsu.

I then lowered myself once more and committed a heinous crime against the Chang family. It was not until I had another battle with my opponent, Yoshimitsu, that I was finally shown the error of my ways. Yoshimitsu fought with honor, something I had not used in so many years. He helped me gain back some dignity that day and helped remake me as a man. Later on, I followed several stupid and ridiculous infatuations, but failed.

So I stand here today, upon the ashes of my former shame. A great demon has come with eyes filled with fire. In his path is my friend, the manji ninja. The demon's horns spark as they glow with power. Electricity crackles within his body as he is about to release his power upon us. I knew that Yoshimitsu would be killed if the blast were to hit him. I knew that if he should die, then it would be a most painful death. The words of my master floated back to me in this terrible moment.

The demon unleashed his wrath, and a golden bolt of raw power came streaking across the sky. I pushed Yoshimitsu aside and the blast caught me full upon the chest. Blood spewed forth in crimson and horrific agony. I felt my very soul being sliced open as the blast struck me. It was like being shredded physically, emotionally and psychologically at the same time. I wished I could have screamed, but the pain was just too great. Gobs of blood and fluid oozed from the gaping hole within my body as I collapsed into Yoshimitsu's arms.

"Why?" Yoshitmitsu asked as he held me in my point of death. My blood completely covered the once shiny armor of the silver warrior. It was at that moment, for some reason I felt no pain. I knew I was going to die. I could taste the blood going into my mouth as I stood upon the door of death.

"Ozuma is not just a sport…it is a way of li…" I could not finish my words, for I had been embraced by darkness. I awoke to see hundreds of sumotori champions from modern days, I saw the ancient rikishis of the death matches from so long ago, I saw my own samurai ancestors, and my old stablemaster was there as well. They were all standing before me and shouting my name. Honor may have a heavy price, but it is well worth the reward.


	22. Descent into madness

The ancient moon had finally sunk in the sky and there was a dim lull in the air. A creature stomped through the forest, something that had never been seen before by the eyes of man. A man that was both beast and human at the same time. A warrior of darkness growled at the moon. He had been awakened from his slumber and it enraged him. He was a beast with the mind of a human and that was his lot. His lot was to be alone forever with no other creature of his own species.

The fools had not realized how far he had finally evolved. He had gone past their expectations and their imaginations. He had tried to become human and there was the travesty. He had the mind of a human, but not the body. In his own eyes, he was a monster. He was an abomination and a grotesque freak. He had tried his hardest to apply human DNA to himself within the lab of his father.

Grotesquely, his arms and legs had become shorter. His tail had disappeared and his face had narrowed. He almost looked human, but the eyes would remain and so would the teeth. The scales would still adorn his body, but in a lighter shade of green. He had done it all in the name of love and it was a misbegotten love at that. His very heart would tremor at her name, which lead him down the road of foolishness.

As a reptile, he had dared look upon the young assassin, Nina Williams. It was an unnatural lust and unnatural affection, which drove him absolutely mad. He had condemned his own father with his tongue for giving him a human brain. He condemned his father for giving him human intelligence, human desire, human want, human pain, human heart and most of all he cursed his father for giving him a human soul. A human soul forever trapped in the body of a beast.

Everything in his mind echoed for Nina. Every cell and every reptilian instinct that rushed within his blood screamed for him to mate. Part of him saw her as prey to be eaten, ravaged and devoured. He could so easily hunt her down, break her neck and rape her. Of course the humanity in Alex prevented this from ever happening. The human within him always kept him from sinking into his natural instincts. His primal urges were held in line by human intellect.

Still, logic is not one to argue with instinct. In his rage and turmoil he had gone into the depths of the jungle. Now here he stands upon the edge of a peak, staring into the face of the stars. An abomination of mankind and to nature herself, this beast looked into the vast emptiness of space trying to find out what he truly was. He knew his time would come, but how could he understand. The abyss stared at him like a colossal black monster with thousands of colorful starlit eyes. In this time he felt small and only one word crept out from his lips, "Nina!"

That word and name stabbed him in the chest, breaking his human heart in half. The reptilian part of him could not even understand. A reptile only understood three things; eat, drink and procreated. Concepts of love, loyalty, pleasure, fun and bonding were completely lost upon this prehistoric body. The human part of him felt like weeping out his pain to the world.

He knew she would come for him. She had hunted him like an animal for the past few days. How ironic that he should fall into a longing with a woman sent to hunt him down like the dog he was. Truly this was a jest of life and a cruel jest at that. He could hear her steps from the underbrush. She was quiet for a human, but he could smell her. He could smell everything about her. The blood beneath the skin, the leather of her shoes, the nylon of her clothing, the plastic of her weapon and even the food she had eaten two hours ago.

By the time she had arrived, he was already hiding on a perch in the tree. She could move like a shadow, but he was a shadow. Man had long ago lost his natural instincts. By becoming civilized he had become weaker and lost all connection with nature. He could easily have jumped onto her back and cut off her lovely throat. He could have done anything, but he chose to wait like a patient predator.

As she turned to face him, her expression became as cold as ice, so he chose to move. The rifle fired, but what use are rifles to him. He is a force of nature combined with the intelligence of man. She tried to gain control, but her reflexes were just too slow. With a stroke of the claw, the weapon was ripped in half. Cornered near a giant oak, she drew her weapon. A weak gesture, but it made him smile in a hideous way. The humanity within him was screaming for him to stop.

Metal clanged against claw. Sizzling sparks burst forth as blades both artificial and natural collided. The battle continued as he began to breathe more heavily. As a reptile, his endurance would not last. He was cold blooded and only had a three chambered heart. She on the other hand could continue much longer with her four chambered heart. He let her wound him below the chest. Blood spattered and trickled from the wound, but it was of little concern.

Falling to the ground he showed an almost genuine aura of pain. He waited there on the ground, like a sleeping crocodile. He moaned a little to add to his brilliant act. This would be the moment of truth. Like the uncreative machine she was, she came over to finish the act. How dull was her mind? There was no art to her killing. With a roar he grabbed the hand with the blade and with the other claw he shoved her into the side of a tree.

The blade fell to the earth where the metal had first come from. He stared into her delicate, but icy blue eyes. The hunger was within him and he could do whatever he wanted. The beast wanted her as his prey. Man and reptile forever consumed in lust and hunger. He wanted to eat and ravage her. Everything about her inspired him in a darkness that lurks in the depths of prehistoric instincts.

"Go ahead and kill me. I am not afraid of death." She stared back into those yellow and venomous orbs. How alike the two were.

"Then you are a fool. How I envy and pity you, mammal. You have the mind, body and soul of a human. You could have been more than what you are. You have no natural instinct to kill. You were not predisposed to becoming a beast. You choose to be a monster. You choose to be a killer." The creature smiled with certain sadness in his voice. "I had no choice, I have never taken a human life before, but I feel the burning inside. I could take your life and body any time I wished, yet I do not."

"You can talk?" There was a surprise in the human's voice. She then saw something in his eyes that truly scared her. It would have been different if this was just some hungry animal, but it was not. She saw something familiar that shook her to the core. She saw intelligence.

"I can talk." He tightened the grip of humanoid claw, "I can do more than just talk. Look upon me, I have five fingers. My nose is as blunt as yours. I have no tail and my legs are the same as a man's. Indeed, I walk the path between man and beast, but never shall be man or beast. I could ravage you first, then kill you and eat your remains. Of course that would not be what my father would have wanted."

"Your father, you mean Doctor Boskonovitch." Her voice became somewhat curious, the fact that a four hundred pound man-reptile, which was wearing only a pair of ripped up khakis, was thinking about violating her did not seem to cause the slightest her. Simply saying Boskonovitch's name had done something to the beast.

"Of course my father, who else should I call my predecessor? He gave me life, but he dared bring me into the world with no mate. Then he had the audacity to give me human thought and feeling. He forgot to remove my nature and desires. I desire human things, but in animalistic way. So ask myself what am I? Truly you have driven me mad. I was there when you slept all those years ago. I could have done whatever I wished, but I found that I could not. I could not because of my father. I look upon you and I am filled with disgust. I am an animal, but what is your excuse for murder. The idea of killing burns in my mind everyday, but still I do not kill. You don't seem to care at all about your deeds. You don't seem to care about taking life." The creature seemed in a trance for a few moments as if reliving his moments in the past.

"This is not right." A tear drop fell from his eye. Would it be right for him to kill her? What difference would it make? She was also a killer just like him, so why would it matter to him? He was not human, so why would it matter to him if a human got hurt? Why not give into his animal behavior and become the creature nature had intended for him to be. The image of an elderly man cradling a young lizard in his arms appeared in his mind and he knew the answer.

He threw Nina away into the underbrush and she was quick to get onto her feet. She fled into the night, never wanting to look back again. With a single bound he landed near her dagger. He picked the metal from the ground. He held it gently in his hand and then he stabbed himself in the belly. He looked to the heavens and whispered. "I am sorry father. I could not exceed my natural instincts. Better I die before I shame your memory."


End file.
